


Breadcrumbs and Fletchings

by sponsormusings



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, and everything in between, toastbabies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 42,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4209084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sponsormusings/pseuds/sponsormusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Everlark drabbles I originally wrote and posted on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feel

Her fingers gripped the bark, the rough, serrated edges piercing and scraping her skin.

She didn’t feel it.

The wind danced through the leaves, brisk and cold, its wintry fingers curling around her, over her, whipping loose tendrils from the messy braid that trailed down her back.

She didn’t feel that either.

In fact, she didn’t feel a thing.

Hours in the cold, in the rain, the unbearable heat of a summer’s day. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered, really.

It didn’t matter when you didn’t care.

The ache had never really gone away, not completely. Some days she found it easier to smile, easier to at least have a conversation with Sae. Easier to bear when she saw those blue eyes appear at her porch door with a warm loaf of bread under his arm. Easier to take comfort in his arms at night, to help keep the nightmares away. But she’d lost something that day, something that she would never be able to reclaim. And on the days that that knowledge struck her like an arrow to the heart, that was when she didn’t care. When she didn’t know if she’d be able to draw herself back.

She heard the crunching of leaves before she saw him, but she didn’t move. Didn’t reply when he murmured she should come inside, that the woods in the middle of winter weren’t the best place for her to be. She closed her eyes as his hand sought her face, as the warm fingertips wiped away the tears that hadn’t had time to dry on her cheeks.

Her body loose and exhausted, she didn’t fight as one of his arms tucked under her up drawn knees, as the other wrapped around her back. Didn’t stop herself from leaning into his warmth as he held her in his arms, his gait only slightly affected by the prosthetic that sank into the snow. She wondered when, exactly, they’d begun to feel like home. When they became the only thing that felt right.

And on that cold, windy, winter afternoon she realised they always had been home to her. It had just taken her too long – far too long – to acknowledge it, to recognise it. 

Even in the hazy state between exhaustion and despair, she vowed to tell him, tell him that it was real, that they were real.

It took a month more, but in the dead of night, limbs tangled together, she told him.

And she felt everything.


	2. First

He’d always assumed he’d go first.

The physical and mental torture that he’d endured, that meant he’d carry scars for the rest of his life had, to him, made it seem inevitable. One day, the damage to his body or mind would catch up to him, and he’d leave Katniss behind, his only concern the enduring wellbeing and happiness of his family.

Instead the illness had been sudden and swift and in the blink of an eye, she was gone and nothing had prepared him for the grief and emptiness that was swallowing him whole.

Without her, nothing seemed right anymore.

During the day, he went through the motions, ignored the pitying glances cast his way, the lowered voices that gave him their condolences. He still fed the kids, bathed them, dropped them over at Delly’s for her to watch over while he worked. Still smiled at them, told them bedtime stories, still baked cookies with them in the kitchen if they asked.

The boy, he was too young to understand yet. Every night he would happily build his blocks up into colourful towers, his silver eyes laughing as he grinned up at Peeta, only occasionally looking around in confusion for the breast he used to rest against and the braid that would tickle his cheek and make him giggle.

As for the girl, she knew, she understood her mother wasn’t coming home again. But Peeta knew the enormity of it all wouldn’t hit her until she was older, despite the way she was careful to hug him more now, the way she murmured repeated I love you’s every time he tucked her into bed.

He was always, always careful to keep it together in front of them.

But at night, when the rustling of leaves drifted through the window with the breeze, and the sheets were cold beside him, he let himself break, let the grief pour over him like the river she’d shown him in the woods once - rushing and fierce and overwhelming. Let the tears soak the pillow beneath his cheek, let his heart ache until he thought it would break him in two.

Katniss was never meant to go first.

But she had.


	3. Every Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt on tumblr from green_wool, aka, yesscoolverygoodok - "Everlark and a college art class, no nude models, just bowls of fruit."

She sat behind him every class.

The first time had been by sheer luck, with it being the only easel and chair available, but she’d spent most of the class watching the way his blond hair - slightly too long, desperately in need of a trim - curled over his ear in a way she would never, ever admit to thinking was cute.

The second time she’d studied the way the muscle in his arm shifted and flexed every time he moved his chalk over the paper in front of him. The pale green cotton of his t-shirt had stretched and crept up his arm until, frustrated, he’d yanked it back down again, and the extra view of creamy skin had been lost. She’d rued that loss for the rest of the class.

The third, she’d caught his eye when she’d dropped her stack of pencils on the ground, and he’d turned to help her pick them up. They were blue, but not like one she’d ever seen before, and she knew their shade was one she’d never be able to describe or replicate.

The fourth, she’d snuck a peek over his shoulder as his long, dextrous fingers grasped a pencil lightly as it danced across his paper. The simple bowl filled with bananas, grapes and oranges that sat on a pedestal in the middle of the room had come to life on that paper, and she’d glumly studied her own work in comparison.

She’d never tell him he was the only reason she’d continued to take this elective, one she’d originally signed up for under duress. She’d never tell him he was the only reason she was willingly attempting to draw fruit bowls that looked more like misshapen rocks and boomerangs.

Just like he’d never tell her that he watched her walk out of the class every time, wishing he could just get the courage to talk to her.


	4. A Lesson in Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr prompt from outofthemarr.
> 
> "Here is one: Katniss needs help because she is failing some classes so a teacher names Peeta her tutor. She hates Peeta because she thinks he has the perfect life but as he helps her she discovers that his life is far from perfect. Thank you so much! :)"

It was purple, the edges tinged a sickly yellow, and it peeked out from underneath the watch he wore on his wrist. She’d first seen it two days ago, when the purple had been so dark it was almost black, but she hadn’t said anything then.

She didn’t say anything now.

Katniss averted her gaze, looked back at the calculus textbook in front of her. It had been humiliating, not only being told she was about to fail her class, but to also have Ms Trinket tell her she’d organised a tutor for her. And not just any old tutor, but the school’s best calculus student.

Of course it had to be damned Peeta Mellark.

She’d moaned about it the entire way home from school the day she’d found out - until Prim had finally snapped. She’d rolled her eyes, tossed her blonde ponytail and bluntly told Katniss to  _‘_ _Quit your bitching, and deal with it. He’s just going to help you, it’s not even a big deal.’_

Prim Everdeen, 13 going on 18, was beginning to become a teenage handful for Katniss - but that was nothing compared to the annoyance she felt when she thought of Peeta Mellark.

She’d always seen him as her opposite, the complete antithesis of Katniss Everdeen. From the top of his perfect golden mop of hair, to the perfect blue eyes that shone brightly, to the perfect row of white teeth that he hadn’t even needed braces to achieve. She was damn sure even the tips of his toes would be as perfect as the rest of him if she ever saw them.

_Not that she’d want to, but she still suspected as much._

He was popular, friendly, aced all his exams, was on the state wrestling team and - according to Madge - had an ass that looked great in jeans. She’d told Madge she didn’t know, that she hadn’t looked, had refused to take the bait when Madge - and then Johanna - had egged her on to check it out.

Katniss hated everything about him. And she hated the fact that she’d have to sit across from him, 3 times a week, until he was confident that she could pass her final calculus exam. She prepared herself for months of hell with the boy who had everything.

Except he was different to what she’d expected. He was friendly, and not in a way that seemed insincere. He was patient, but didn’t take any shit from her when she complained. His smile was nice, but when she’d hissed at him to quit grinding his teeth together during a study session, he’d apologised and admitted it was a habit he’d had since he was a kid, and he had to wear a retainer at night to save himself from grinding his teeth down to nothing. She’d been speechless.

_He had to wear a retainer, and somehow, that had mollified her a little._

But today, she couldn’t concentrate. Her eyes kept sliding over and looking at the bruise on his wrist, the way that even though it was half-hidden by his watch, she could see the almost perfect imprints of three fingers peeking out the side.

And suddenly she realised that not all things that looked perfect  _were_  perfect.

She heard him clear his throat, and she glanced up, saw him looking at her study his wrist. When his cheeks coloured and he dropped his gaze, she reached out, laid her hand on his. She didn’t even think, didn’t even second guess herself.

He didn’t say anything, just simply turned his hand over, laced his fingers through hers, and squeezed gently. They sat like that for a moment before quickly withdrawing their hands back to their respective sides of the table.

Something shifted between them that day.


	5. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from starks-and-mellarks :)
> 
> "How about Katniss and Peeta getting addicted to a TV show together (cuddling and binge watching are a plus hehe)"

“Get the pringles!” 

“Got them already!”

“And the Pepsi!” 

“Got it!”

“And-”

Peeta turned the corner from their kitchen into their living room, arms full of snacks and an exasperated look on his face. “Katniss, I know what I’m doing, alright? We’ve been doing the same thing for 9 episodes already - I get it.”

Katniss scowled, tugged the blanket up to her chin. It didn’t matter that it was ridiculously hot outside, she preferred to watch it with the air con blasting. “I just didn’t want you to forget.”

He dropped beside her, dumping the food on the coffee table, and tugging half of the blanket over himself. He ducked his head so that he nuzzled into her neck, causing her to wriggle in her seat in annoyance. It was one of her more ticklish spots -  _and he knew it_. “Stop it, Peeta,” she hissed, and he laughed as he pulled back.

“I’ll stop when you stop telling me what to do.”

Katniss raised her eyebrow. “Normally you like me telling you what to do.”

Peeta chuckled, then reached forward and popped the top on the can, sipped at it slowly as his eyes danced with amusement. “You’re right, normally I do. For now though…” he reached for the remote, turned the volume up. “Let’s just watch this. And make a deal.”

The opening credits started, the map began to build itself on screen, and the music that had been Peeta’s ringtone for months began to blare through the speakers. “What kind of deal?” she asked, lifting her legs and resting them across his thighs. She began to loop her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“If we get through the entire episode without you telling me ’ _That didn’t happen in the book_ ’, I’ll do whatever you want me to later.”

Katniss narrowed her eyes. “ _Whatever_  I want you to do?” He nodded, and she grinned to herself as she settled in closer to him, shifting her attention to the screen.

She had a  _very_  promising night ahead.


	6. Before The Sun Rises

Katniss could feel the shift in the air, the hint of morning as the sun began to dawn over the horizon. The dew had already begun to settle on her boots, marking the worn brown leather, and the chill curled under her braid, sneaking down the collar of her shirt until she shivered.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, and she nodded, felt the movement of his thigh under her head as he leant over to look at her face. She smiled gently, hoped that response alone would dissuade him from asking her any more questions. It wasn’t. “Do you want my jacket?”

“I’m fine,” she murmured. “It’s always a little cool just before the sun rises.”

Peeta hummed in agreement, threaded his fingers through the ends of her hair. “It is,” he confirmed, then turned his attention to the colours - orange, yellow and the faintest wisps of pink and purple - that began to streak the sky. “Working in the bakery for so long meant I saw my fair share of sunrises, I just couldn’t enjoy them if my focus was on the ovens. I suppose that’s why I always preferred the sunset. I could watch them without being bothered. And the colours…There are still days I know I’ll never be able to recreate them.”

Katniss nodded again, shifting slightly so that she was on her back, and could study the way the slivers of light filtering through the trees danced across his face. He leant back on his palms, carefully stretched his legs out on the blanket under them so that he didn’t jar her with any sudden movements. “I liked the sunrise because I shared it with my Dad,” she said. “It was our time, the time when we’d come out here and just be us.”

He smiled. “I like knowing that,” he told her, then tipped his head back slightly and closed his eyes. Katniss studied the curve of his jaw, the way his lashes had fluttered closed against his cheek, the way his bottom lip was plumper than the top. Remembered the way his hand had cupped her own cheek, and his mouth had closed over hers, hot and needy, in the abandoned cabin only hours before.

She wondered how it had become like this. When  _they_  had become like this. All fake and pretend and nothing more than a smokescreen to save them - but then suddenly fake had become  _real_  and everything was  _need_  and  _want_  and she knew nothing would ever be the same.

“How long until we have to leave?” She asked, her voice quiet. He opened his eyes and brushed his fingers across her cheekbone gently.

“The Reaping starts at 9,” he said. “But I’m in no rush. It’s not as though there will be any surprises.”

“No,” Katniss agreed. There were definitely no surprises, and the only chance of a volunteer would be if Haymitch’s name was called. The result was already set in stone. Snow had made sure of that.

They sat silently, watched as the sun peaked above the mountain range, and the colours of the woods around them slowly came to life.

“Peeta?” Katniss finally said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you…” He looked down at her then, all blond hair and pale skin and blue eyes. The shadows under them - a result of sleepless nights and long days of training for an Arena they shouldn’t even be going into - didn’t distract from their warmth or the love for her that so clearly shone through. “Do you think this, us, would have happened anyway?”

Peeta smiled, and lowered his mouth to hers, his words a whisper against her lips. “I’d like to think so.”


	7. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt - "Midnight on the bridge. Come Alone." - received from both acciograce (aka remellarkable) and jhutchmyanchor

_Could she do this? Could she really throw all caution into the wind and do this?_

Katniss looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand for what was likely the fiftieth time that night, but she didn’t need to read the words. She’d memorized them; they’d been imprinted on her brain since the moment she’d opened the creamy piece of stationery he’d pressed into her hand and told her to read later.

_“Midnight on the bridge. Come alone.”_

It wasn’t right. In fact, everything about it was wrong, so wrong. They were adversaries in every way, and even the slightest chance of them being seen together was professional suicide.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She’d known it was a mistake when she’d bumped into him at a bar in DC 2 months earlier and started chatting, had known it was a mistake when she’d allowed him to slide his body closer to hers as the pounding beats of the DJ made it difficult to hear each other. She’d known she shouldn’t have said yes  when Peeta Mellark had offered to walk her back to her hotel, had known she shouldn’t have offered - _so damn eagerly_  - for him to have a nightcap in her room. Which had, admittedly, led to the best damn sex of her life; but they’d agreed that that was it, one time only, nothing more.

Now, after more exchanged text messages than she’d admit to, and trying to keep her eyes from flitting to his in every business meeting they both sat in on, he’d raised the bar.

She knew what bridge he meant - they’d made fun of movies with this very premise on that one drunken night - and she knew he was serious. The only question was could she do it.

The answer that tugged at her was the one thing she shouldn’t do.

* * *

 “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not, Finn. I wish I was, but I’m not.” Peeta raised his glass to his lips, slugged back the final couple of swallows of whatever the hell beer had been on tap. He kept his eyes warily on the clock above the bar, noted how close it was until midnight.  _He was such an idiot._

Finnick drumrolled his hands on the countertop, the remnants of his own beer in his glass sloshing about from the movement. “I cannot wait  to go home and tell Annie.  _‘Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone.’_  It’s like a big ass cliche from a movie, dude.”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “I know it is. That’s the point. It was…”

“It was what?”

“It was one of the things we talked about that night. Stupid romantic comedies and their cliches.” Peeta dropped his head in his hands. “I should have just left it. I mean, the texts were one thing, but this? This is another entirely.”

He still couldn’t believe he’d written Katniss the note. Still couldn’t believe he’d had the balls to give it to her. Now, of course, in hindsight, it was possibly the worst thing he could have done. If the rest of his colleagues found out, there would be hell to pay. They’d accuse him of sleeping with the enemy - even if it had only ever happened the one time.

_Even though he’d wished it had happened again. So much more. He supposed that’s why he’d scribbled the note down on his own company stationery and slipped it to her as he’d left the meeting earlier that day._

“So when are you leaving here?” Finnick asked him. “It’s almost twelve.”

“I shouldn’t go,” Peeta replied with a groan, shifting his head so it was resting on his palm and he could look at his friend straight on. “It’s so wrong.”

Finnick shook his head. “Dude, you’ve been talking about this girl for months, ever since your DC hookup. Now you’re telling me you asked her to meet you on the bridge and you’re thinking about not going? You’re an idiot.”

“But work-”

“Fuck work, Peeta. For the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve always been going on about how you want a more simple life, and you don’t even know if you like your job and you just wish you could find someone who meant something to you. So for crying out loud, for my sanity alone, just go. Now. You’ve got ten minutes.”

Peeta glanced back at the clock, then back at Finnick. Everything his friend had said was true. And dammit, he thought something good could come of this.

He slid off the stool, slapped Finnick on the shoulder. “Thanks man. Now go home to your wife.”

* * *

He had now officially become the ultimate cliche. Not only was he going to the bridge - but he was running there.  _Running_ _._  With his suit jacket streaming behind him. All he needed now was some rain.

The crack of thunder above mocked him, and he rolled his eyes.

He heard his phone beeping in his pocket, telling him the time, felt his heart speed up a little in anticipation. God, he hoped she was there.

Peeta turned the corner, and slowed down to a walk as he started across the bridge. There were a few people around, mostly couples, a few groups of drunk twenty-somethings stumbling along. And then he saw her.

His heart was about to leap right out of his chest.

He moved towards her, slid his arms onto the railing before turning to face her. His letter was clutched in her fist.

“Hi Katniss,” he said quietly.

“Hi Peeta,” she replied, her mouth turning up at the corner. “You’re late. Just like you are for every business meeting.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then noticed the teasing glint in her eye. He grinned. “Well you know me, Everdeen. I like to keep you on your toes.”

“You sure do.”

He shifted his arm so that his hand slid against hers, their fingers brushing against each other. “I’m glad you came.”

Katniss was quiet for a moment before she replied. “So am I.”


	8. Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anonymous tumblr prompt - "Everlark - "You embarrassed me tonight.""

Katniss dropped onto her bed face-first, thumped her fists against the pillow and moaned loudly. Her stomach was still filled with butterflies, her calves ached from running back to her dorm faster than she should have on 4 vodkas, and her face continued to burn from humiliation. She was going to kill Madge, and then she was going to kill Gale. In no certain order, whichever one she came across first.

She couldn’t believe they’d done this to her tonight, of all nights. The one night where she’d relented, when she’d agreed to go to one of Gale’s stupid frat parties, with their promises that it would be just a night of harmless fun.

It had become anything but harmless when Peeta had walked in the door, all blond hair, blue eyes and charming smile.

She’d told Madge a week before - in complete and utter roommate confidence - that Peeta Mellark was the first guy she’d ever met who had made her rethink her stance on not dating in college, that the classes that they shared on a Monday afternoon and Thursday morning were the only ones that she had no idea what the hell the curriculum was. And now, after they’d obviously partaken in too many rounds of beer pong, Madge had drunkenly teased her about her crush arriving, and Gale had chuckled along with her, his eyes glassy and his dark hair mussed from Madge’s hands. Horror had coursed through her veins and she’d vehemently told them to  _get screwed, that she was never telling Madge anything ever again, and how the hell had Gale found out anyway?_ , before turning angrily on her heel - only to find Peeta standing behind her, eyes wide and bright. With surprise, amusement, mockery - she still didn’t know what had been showing his eyes, only that it made her want to vomit. Katniss had run from the house before any of them could say anything more to her.

Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, watching the streetlight from across the street play across the room. Tonights events basically meant she was dropping that class, and that she could never go to the rec room at the bottom of the dorm any more, where she knew he hung out and played pool with Finnick Odair and Jo Mason. She would make Madge do her laundry in the laundry room for the next year and -

The knock was loud and echoed like a drum on the front door to their room; she was glad she’d had the foresight to lock it, as well as sliding the latch across. Madge wasn’t getting in unless Katniss let her in, and there was a fat chance in hell of that happening tonight.

The knock came again, and again, until finally she sat up, tossed her bangs out of her face in frustration.

“Fuck off, Madge! You embarrassed me tonight!”

There was a moment of silence.

“Uh, Katniss? It’s not Madge. It’s, uh…It’s Peeta Mellark.”

Her jaw dropped.


	9. Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt on tumblr from vitsignat - "Everlark: "Is there something you want to tell me?""

Peeta’s hands were steady as he slowly piped pale yellow icing onto the cupcake on the counter, the lines of the flowers petals small and delicate. He liked to take his time with these ones, the ones young couples were using to help celebrate their toasting. The recent increase in these types of events - engagements, births, toastings - continued to bring him the hope that life was slowly returning to normal in Twelve, that after years of war and death and uncertainty, people were trying to live their lives, that they were trying to make things good again.

 _Good again_. It was one of the phrases he’d heard Katniss murmur when she thought he wasn’t listening or paying attention. She’d say it as she was tending to the primroses in the front yard, as they tentatively began to work on the plant book again, or as she was skinning a squirrel in the mudroom.  _Things could be good again._

He hoped with everything in his being that they would be.

The recovery of the District had been a slow one. Thom and Leevy and a group from the mines had returned from Thirteen a week after Snow’s death, and had immediately set to work making Twelve inhabitable again. Peeta was glad he hadn’t been here to see it at that stage, wasn’t sure he would have been able to handle seeing the destruction, knew he wouldn’t have been able to watch as the meadow had become the final resting place of so many people he’d loved, so many people he’d known.

By the time he’d returned to his home District, the bakery had been nothing but a slab of concrete, with only the memories left behind. Mellarks Bakery was no more.

Katniss had been the one to encourage him to begin baking for the District again, eight months after his return. Both their larder and freezer had been full with enough bread to last a season, and when he’d realised that Haymitch’s were the same, he’d known the simple suggestion Katniss had made one afternoon was the right one. So while he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to rebuild the bakery on the plot of land that was rightfully his, he baked cheese buns and loaves of bread and cupcakes and apple pies from their kitchen in Victors Village. It made him feel useful, made him feel like he was part of the District, made him feel like he was him again.

Of course, he also attributed most of feeling like himself again to Katniss.

It had taken them months of dancing around each other, of carefully tiptoeing around the shattered pieces of themselves until they realised they put themselves back together so much easier when they were together. The first time she’d helped him through a flashback - when she’d rested her palms on the middle of his back and sung quietly under her breath - had been in the middle of his makeshift art studio, where he’d torn a canvas to shreds until his fingers had bled. The first night she’d let him hug her, the images had been of the Arena, and they’d hit her full force in the middle of her kitchen. The first night he’d slept in her bed had been after he’d heard her screams from his own house; he’d been out his front door and in her room within a matter of minutes, soothing her to sleep until her breathing evened out and her fingers limply clutched the sleeve of his shirt.

It wasn’t long before things changed.

The first time they kissed again was under a soft spring rain, lying in the grass in her backyard, watching as the rain clouds rolled in.

The first time he’d cupped her breast in his palm was in the middle of the darkened night, with nothing but the light of the moon to highlight her skin, and her eyes searing into him longingly.

The first time she’d whispered his name breathlessly as he’d trailed his fingers down her torso, the first time she’d come apart under him with a moan, dragging him desperately over the edge with her, had been on a cool winters evening, and he’d known that nothing would be the same again.

But now…Dammit, now he was certain he’d blown it all, with his enthusiasm and desperation to tell her how he really felt. Hadn’t she walked out the door this morning, hours before he’d roused himself from sleep to find sheets that were cool and her muddied boots gone?

He’d screwed it all up.

With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the cupcakes in front of him, moving onto the next blank canvas. He chose pale blue for this one, knew from the bride that it was a favoured colour of her future husband. He continued to work slowly, meticulously, quietly. Which was the only reason he heard the faint creak of the back door, and the squeak of the first floorboard leading into his hallway. His heart began to pound, his stomach twisting itself into knots.

The length of her shadow beat her into the room, and he looked up just in time to see her step into the bright lights of the kitchen, her face streaked with dirt, her bag slung over her shoulder and a wayward leaf in her hair. She looked tired, worried - but also resolute.

“Katniss?” he asked quietly, hoping his nervousness didn’t come through in his voice. “Are you ok?” She stared at him, her eyes a little wild, before she nodded. He tried to keep his tone light, casual. “Have you had a good day?”

“I, uh..” her voice was scratchy, and she coughed lightly to clear her throat. “Yeah. I went into the woods.”

Peeta pressed his lips together, looked down at the cupcakes in front of him. “Did you hunt?”

“No.”

“Oh. Did you go to the lake?”

“No. I just…went and thought.” He looked back up at her, waiting for her to continue. Katniss’ mouth opened, then closed again, before she began worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “I was…thinking about our conversation last night.”

“Oh.” He dropped the piping bag to the counter, wiped his hands nervously on his apron. “And is there…uh…Is there something you want to tell me?”

She nodded, took one step, then another, and another until she was directly in front of him, and her hands were resting on his chest. He was certain she’d be able to feel his heart pounding out of control under her palm. “I love you.”

Everything inside of him burst, the worry he’d tied up inside of himself all day dissipating like smoke at the uttering of three simple words. He smiled, reached up a hand to trail his palm down her braid. “And?”

She reached up on her tiptoes, pressed her mouth close to his ear. “And yes.”

His smile increased until he was certain it could be considered nothing less than a cheesy grin, then crushed his mouth to hers.

_She’d said yes._


	10. I Won't Give Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr prompt from whowhatsitwhich - "Everlark....."Do you ever think we should just stop doing this?""

Her lungs burned, her feet ached. Her shoulder throbbed like a bitch, and she was certain a bruise was beginning to form. None of it mattered, though.

What mattered was that Peeta was getting stronger and fitter, that he was getting better with the knife every day, that his snares were effective. That he was becoming a Career.

Katniss watched as he and Haymitch rounded each other like prey, their bodies braced and alert, each waiting for the other to pounce. She already knew Haymitch would go first, to the left as he always did, and Peeta would read it, before immediately pivoting on his foot and wrapping an arm around Haymitch’s neck.

Sure enough, it played out that way, and Katniss hid a tired grin behind her hand as Haymitch cursed Peeta til he was all out of words.

None of them had beaten Peeta in hand to hand, not yet. She hoped they never did.

She stretched her legs out in front of her, watched as Haymitch limped towards his house and Peeta headed towards her. He dropped down onto the grass, immediately flopped onto his back before smiling at her tiredly.

“He never learns,” he sighed, and she nodded.

“I guess if he gets reaped, I keep him away from a physical fight.”

Peeta’s lips pursed, as they always did when she directly referred to entering the Arena, but reached out, carelessly threaded his fingers through hers. Things had changed the last few days, after she’d finally felt his arms wrap around her after so long, felt the warmth of his breath on her neck as he’d pulled her close. She hadn’t wanted to let go. She still didn’t want to. But she knew she’d have to eventually.

Katniss laid down beside him, watched the clouds drift across the sky. Her tired body complained with every movement, and she wondered, for the millionth time, if this was all even worth it. She swallowed heavily before turning her head to face him. “Peeta, do you ever think we should just stop doing this? We’ve learnt everything we possibly could, and maybe for these last few days-”

“No.” He cut her off, short and abrupt, and closed his eyes. “We train til the very last moment. I’m not taking any risks - not for you, not for me, not for Haymitch. We’re not letting any of them win.”

“But-”

“No buts, Katniss.” His eyes flickered open, the blue of his irises intense and strong and powerful with the emotions that were obviously coursing through him. “I’m not going to let them get to you. District Twelve will have another Victor this year, I guarantee it, Katniss. I promise it.”

They both looked away back to the sky above them, and Katniss knew that he was right, that they needed to keep doing this. After all, he would be the one standing on the stage with Caesar after it was all done.

She’d make sure of it. And this was the best way to do it.


	11. Hey Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anonymous prompt on tumblr - "Everlark "Go and live with her (him), then! See if I care!""

“You know, I’m still really surprised.”

"You are? Reallllllly?”

Katniss knew her reply was dry and sarcastic, but Peeta was oblivious to her tone as he turned back to his textbook. His obliviousness was surprising – he’d always been able to read her like a book – but he was probably distracted by the thoughts of boobs and long legs and post-surgery perfect noses anyway. Normally, after being best friends since they were 11, he could tell her moods better than anyone, always knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

_Well. Most of the time, anyway. Thank god._

He’d still not managed to figure out that when she stared at him across the table at their local coffee house, that it wasn’t because he had cookie crumbs on his top lip ( _though he was getting suspicious of that one, she was going to have to think up a better excuse)_ , but it was because she wanted to  _lick_  across his top lip. Repeatedly.

He still hadn’t realised that whenever he mentioned his latest dates name, Katniss would turn her head, curl her lip and mouth  _Glimmerrrrrrrrrrr_  as sarcastically as she could while remaining silent. He still hadn’t realised that, when they’d driven home for a long weekend to visit her sister and his brothers in their home town, the  _Peeta_  she’d moaned in her sleep as she’d dozed in the passenger seat hadn’t been because she’d been dreaming about bread as she’d told him when he’d brought it up later, but because she’d been dreaming about him.

Naked.

And oh boy, she was thinking about it again.

She slammed her textbook closed, the sound reverberating around the quiet library, and folded her hands on top of the cover.

“So what, exactly, are you surprised about?”

“I never thought Glimmer would like me enough to ask me out.”

“Oh boo hoo, Peeta,” Katniss rolled her eyes. “You’re one of the best looking guys on campus. Of course she would.”

“Would you?” he asked with a smirk.

“I don’t like guys who put whoopie cushions under my ass,” she countered.  _Yes you do._

“I was thirteen, Katniss.”

“Thirteen, twenty one, whatever. See how Glimmer likes that when you move in together and play happy families,” she snapped. Then her cheeks flushed.  _Shit_.  _Where had that come from?_

“Whoa, what?” Peeta’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What are you even talking about?”

Katniss hunched her shoulders, annoyed at herself for saying anything. It wasn’t his fault she’d had been in line behind Glimmer at the bookstore the other day, trying to not listen ( _but still listening really hard_ ), as she’d gloated about Peeta to her blonde and perfect and manicured girlfriends.

“Kaaaatniss. What are you talking about?” He repeated.

She sighed, pushed her braid behind her shoulders. “I heard Glimmer talking with her girlfriends about how ‘serious’ you guys are and that you’d probably be living together within 6 months.”

Peeta baulked. “Katniss, we’ve only gone on a couple of dates! We haven’t even…. Ugh, that’s ridiculous!”

“Is it?” she countered.

“I haven’t even thought about it!” he exclaimed loudly, and garnered a dirty look from the two girls studying at the next table. He lowered his voice, leant towards her as he hissed his response. “We’re just getting to know each other! And why would I even think about doing something like that and not tell you anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Katniss snapped. “Maybe it’s because I found out about Glimmer in the first place from _Finnick_  and not you!”

Peeta had the grace to blush, the pink tinging his cheeks and making the smattering of freckles stand out. “I was going to but-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she replied, then sighed. “Look, I don’t care what you do, or who you date, ok?”

Peeta blinked in surprise, and the hurt and shock in his eyes was obvious. “You don’t  _care_  what I do?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

He leant back, folded his arms across his chest. “Fine. Maybe I  _will_  move in with her.”

“Fine. Go and live with her, then! See if I care!”

“I will!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

They stared at each other across the table, mirror images of each other with faces like thunder, chests heaving in frustration and  _god, like everything inside her wasn’t screaming at her to jump over the table and have at him_.

Suddenly, Peeta’s expression changed, and she felt her heart thud nervously. “Oh wow. I can’t believe it. You’re…you’re  _jealous_.”

“What? No I’m not,” she snapped indignantly.  _Oh no._

“Yes you are.”

“Nuh-huh,” she shook her head forcefully.

Peeta stood, placed his palms on the table and leant towards her, his face merely inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and his eyes had become so dilated they were almost black. His voice was low and throaty when he spoke. “Glimmer’s been a fun dinner date, but that’s about it. You know it wouldn’t ever lead to anything more, Katniss. Not when all I ever think about is you and me doing everything  _but_  studying on this desk.”

Her mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

He grinned, slowly, but surely. “I’ve been thinking about it a long time, but didn’t think you felt the same, so I didn’t say anything. Didn’t want to risk  _us_. But I just realised…you do.”

“No I don’t,” she muttered, but she knew she sounded pitiful.

He raised an eyebrow wryly. “Dreaming about bread, Katniss?”

_Dammit._


	12. Waking Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr prompt from mitchesbcray - "Everlark "No! I’m tired of doing what you say."

Katniss curled up in on herself, tucking her head against her knees, under her arms. It was cool and dark in here, and the only sound she could hear was the slow in and out of her breath, and a faint hum from an air vent.  It had become like home to her, more than anywhere else in this stupid District. Here, no one bothered her. Here, she didn’t have to pretend that she cared about their cause, or the leader who she suspected was no better than Snow. Here she was nothing and no-one. And she preferred it that way.

But then the door to the closet was being flung open and Haymitch’s green-tinged face was looking down at her, ruining her moment of peace.

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded forcefully, despite the fact that his hands were shaking and beads of sweat were popping on his forehead. Going cold turkey had wreaked havoc with his system, and while some days he was fine, others – like today - shook him down to his core.

“Nothing,” she muttered dully, dropping her gaze back to the floor.

“No shit,” he retorted. “Plutarch is looking for you.”

“Don’t care.”

“They want to do another propo.”

“Still don’t care.”

He sighed, closed the door behind him and dropped to his haunches beside her. “You know you gotta do this, Sweetheart.”

Katniss raised her head, and scowled. “I don’t have to do anything.”

“You promised,” he reminded her.

“No! I’m tired of doing what you say!” she snapped. “I’m tired of doing what everyone tells me to do, when I don’t get to do  _anything_  that I want to.”

“Really?” he drawled. “And what is it you want to do?”  _He asked, but she knew he already knew._

Katniss clenched her jaw. “You know what I want, and they won’t let me.”

Haymitch winced. “They still don’t know if it’s safe to,” he reminded her, and she noticed his voice had softened.

“I don’t care,” she hissed, her voice catching. “I want to see Peeta. Prim’s already told me he’s getting better, and I want to see it for myself.”

“Katniss,” he began with a warning tone, but she shook her head, swallowing heavily at the tears she knew were threatening to overspill.

“No, Haymitch. Not today. I won’t do another propo until I get to see Peeta.” She folded up into herself again, looked away from him. She didn’t move, even while she heard him sigh, and the creak of his knees as he rose, even while she heard the door open and close again behind him.

It was only when she was alone again that she allowed the frustrated tears to roll down her cheeks.

********

She didn’t know how he did it, didn’t know exactly how Haymitch had convinced them. But within an hour she was being led to the medical ward, although the terms of her admission were clear.  _You can’t be in the room with him. He won’t be able to see you. Don’t try and force contact with him_.

The closer she got to the ward, the more her stomach twisted in knots. The thought of seeing him for the first time since his hands had closed around her throat, when the eyes that had only ever stared at her with love pierced her with hate, filled her with a combination of fear and hope that warred inside of her.

But she knew she had to see him. Couldn’t go on without seeing him.

His room was bare, save for a single bed and a small table and chairs that were bolted to the ground. Peeta sat on the bed, a thick black piece of chalk in his hand as he scrawled on a piece of paper. His jaw was clenched, and even from here she could see the emptiness in his eyes.

“How is he?” she murmured, raising her hand to the glass that separated them, as though by doing so, she was touching him, bringing him closer to her.

“Progress is slow,” the nurse told her quietly. “But between your sister and an old friend from District Twelve, he’s improving.”

“How does he sleep? Does he dream? Does he have nightmares?”  _Was it worse for him when he was awake and aware of what had happened to him? Or were his dreams still as bad as his waking reality?_

“He’s mostly sedated heavily at night,” the nurse explained. “So I doubt he’s dreaming of anything.”

“Oh.”

They stood in silence, watched as Peeta continued to sketch, oblivious to their gazes. Then she felt the nurse step ever so slightly closer to her, and her voice was soft as she spoke. “On the nights he isn’t sedated, it’s you he calls for.”

“What?” Katniss whipped her head around, staring at the young nurses’ innocent face in shock.

“He whispers your name. And it’s not angry, Miss Everdeen. It sounds like…”

“Like?”

“Like he needs you. Like he wants you there with him. Like he loves you.” Suddenly the nurse glanced up at the security camera that was in the corner, its light blinking red. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say anything more,” she mumbled, and stepped away from her again.

Katniss stared through the glass at Peeta, and knew it didn’t matter what anyone said anymore.

_They weren’t going to keep him from her any longer._


	13. Bad Games to Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anonymous tumblr prompt: "Everlark: why are you taking his side against me?"

They glared at each other, arms folded across their chests, silence reigning supreme.  It was a stalemate, and neither was willing to back down - it was one of the few times in their married life where they were both always going to be too stubborn to give in first.

It was how it always happened - Peeta would casually suggest the idea when it was raining outside, and Katniss would agree, conveniently forgetting every argument they’d ever had about it. They’d light a fire, settle down on the plush rug her mother had given them for their first wedding anniversary, a bottle of red to help set the mood.

But it would only take an hour before insults would start flying.

It had shocked Finn and Annie the first time they’d seen it, and Delly and Thom had refused to ever get in the middle of Armageddon  _(as Thom had jokingly referred to it before cowering from their heated glares)_ again. But their friends reactions hadn’t changed a thing.

Because the minute either of them put a damned hotel on Mayfair, all hell would always be guaranteed to break loose.

“I still can’t believe you,” Katniss finally huffed, breaking their stony silence.

“What?” Peeta retorted.

“This!” She gestured to the board in front of them. “Why are you taking his side against me?!”

Peeta rolled his eyes, leant forward. “ _’_ _His_ _’_  side Katniss? He’s the damned banker. He doesn’t have a side! And he’s not even real!”

“Yeah, well the way you’re both taking my money from me, I’d swear otherwise!” She snapped. They each pulled a face at the other, before Katniss snatched up the dice, practically threw them across the board in annoyance. They tumbled over and over until they were almost falling off the edge onto the rug. She stared at them in defeat.

Two sixes.

Twelve.

_Go to Jail._

Shit.

_Every. Damn. Time._


	14. Nothing to Lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr prompt from peetasandherondales - "You can't invite her. Mother hates her. Everlark.", and an anon prompt of "You were always the quiet one."

Peeta yanked at the tie around his throat, trying - and failing - to get the windsor knot perfect, just like his mother would expect it to be. Yet he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

_Just chalk it up to another instance where he’d never meet the expectations of his mother._

With a frustrated sigh, he turned on his foot, stomped down the hall in his stone grey suit to his brothers’ room, where he banged on the closed door until Aaran finally pulled it open. “Whadda ya want, Peet?” he hissed in annoyance, his eyes tired and his hair askew. “I just worked 18 hours straight and I’m trying to sleep!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I just need you to fix my tie, and then I’ll be out of your hair,” Peeta asked. “You know I can never get this stupid knot the way Mom wants it to look, and then she goes apeshit - I don’t need that tonight of all nights.”

With a sigh, Aaran reached forward, his fingers deftly knotting the tie. “Man, I don’t know how you can ice those damn cakes in the bakery but you still can’t tie a simple knot.”

“It’s because I don’t care about the tie. I don’t even care about Prom, but Mom is making me go.”

Aaran covered his mouth as he yawned. “Prom, hey. I didn’t even realise it was tonight.”

Peeta shrugged. “Yeah, it’s tonight. I’d much rather stay at home, though.”

“Why? Prom date turn you down?” Aaran teased.

“No, Delly and I are going together,” Peeta intoned. “Although she wasn’t who I wanted to ask.”

Aaran’s eyes narrowed, and Peeta sighed.  _Even half asleep, he knew he’d never get anything past his brother._  “You’re so whipped, you little shit. Still ‘secretly’ in love with Katniss Everdeen after all these years.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Peeta countered.

Aaran chuckled. “But you can’t invite her. Mom hates her.”

“I know that,” Peeta snapped. “Hence why I didn’t ask her. I don’t need Mom making my last two months before I move to Boston a living hell.”

Leaning against the doorframe, Aaran shook his head. “Then you’re dumber than I thought.”

“Hang on, what?” Peeta’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“You heard me. You’ve been banging on about Katniss Everdeen for longer than I’ve wanted to hear about her. Now, on the last opportunity you might have to ask her out, you don’t because  _Mom will be angry_ _?_  Forget about Mom, Peet. You’re almost 18. Do whatever the hell you want for once.”

Peeta’s brow furrowed, and he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “But I know she’s already going with Madge Undersee and Jo Mason. And Delly will kill me if I bail on her.”

“Geez, you’re not bailing on Delly, you’re still going to have to go with her,” Aaran rolled his eyes. “But once you’re there, Peet - go for it. Delly will be fine. You know she watches those shitty romance movies; she’ll love it.”

“But…” Peeta trailed off. Could he do that? Could he, after years of watching Katniss walk down the halls of Panem High, actually get up the courage to ask her to at least dance? To see what it felt like to hold her? To see what it felt like to have her body pressed up against his?

_Damn right he could. He had nothing to lose._

He reached forward, punched Aaran in the arm. “Go to bed, old man. And don’t wait up,” he winked, before sprinting down the hall. Suddenly, the night ahead didn’t seem so bad.

* * *

 

Katniss Everdeen didn’t know what she hated more - long dresses or high heels. Both made her feel awkward and uncomfortable, like she was pretending to be some rich guys trophy wife.  And considering she was currently wearing both, along with a face full of make-up that Madge had insisted on, her mood was quickly plummeting towards Severely Pissed Off.

She shifted from side to side, trying to alleviate the ache in the balls of her feet, but with little luck. Whoever had invented these torture devices deserved a punch in the face. Followed closely by the person who had thought something called Prom would be a great idea to end the school year.

“Here,” Johanna Mason hissed, slipping a small flask from the inside of her purse into Katniss’ hand. “Have a swig of this and cheer the hell up.”

Katniss screwed up her nose, pushed it back. “What the hell, Jo?! Nuh-huh, put that away. Nothing is going to save tonight, not even vodka.”

“It’s tequila,” Jo grinned wickedly, and Katniss groaned.

“Don’t get me in trouble tonight, Mason. The last thing I need is Ms Trinket harping on at me for the rest of the year. I just want to buckle down, finish my classes and start community college.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Whatever. If you’re gonna be a party pooper, Everdeen, I’m gonna go hang out with Blight.”

Katniss gestured across the room with her hand. “Go forth and get shit-faced. I’m staying for an hour, then going home.”

Jo stuck her tongue out at Katniss, before she strode across the room in 6 inch red heels, her short black dress barely skimming her thighs.

_There were times Katniss wondered how the hell she and Johanna had become friends. Other times she wondered how she’d ever survived the first two years of high school without her._

With a sigh, she scanned the lavishly decorated gym that was full of her classmates. She saw Madge talking to Delly Cartwright beside the drinks table, Cashmere Saunders and Clove Anderson twerking ( _oh god_ _)_  on the dance floor, while Cato Phillips looked on with a smirk on his face. Ms Trinket was still racing around the room, scolding boys with wandering hands and looking disapprovingly at dresses she deemed too short. Finnick Odair was slow dancing in the corner with Annie Cresta while Peeta Mellark was striding across the dance floor towards her with a look of determination on his face. Cashmere-

_Wait, what? Peeta Mellark was coming towards her?_

She looked around, to see who else he could be walking towards, but there was no one around except for Mr Latier and Ms Wiress, deep in conversation with each other. She was nowhere near the food, and the drinks were on the other side of the room and -

_Holy shit, he was definitely heading for her._

Katniss chewed on her bottom lip, absently smoothed a hand down the hip of her deep green dress. She’d only spoken to Peeta a dozen times in the entire time they’d been at Panem High, but she knew he was one of the nicest guys out there. He was also damn good looking, a great artist, and wasn’t a bad wrestler either.

_Not that she’d watched any of his matches or anything._

“Hey Katniss,” he greeted with a smile as he got closer. He stopped in front of her, shoved his hands in the pockets of the grey suit he wore.

“Hi…Hi Peeta,” she muttered.

“How’s things?”

“I’m at Prom, so….dandy,” she replied with a scowl. No point in lying. He grinned.

“It’s ok, I didn’t want to come either,” he whispered conspiratorially. “But I promised Delly, and then my brother talked some sense into me too.”

She found the corner of her lip curling in a smile. “Aaran?” She asked, remembering the senior from two years before who’d streaked through the middle of the gym during his own Prom. “I hope you’re not taking his advice about what to do tonight.”

He chuckled. “Well, I am…but he didn’t advise me to do what he did. Actually, what he did tell me to do was pretty good advice.”

“Yeah? What was it?”

Katniss watched as he swallowed heavily, and she was surprised that she suddenly felt a sense of nervousness emanating from him.

“He, uh, told me to ask you to dance.”

She practically did a double take. “What?”

“He told me to ask you to dance. And considering it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, I figured I should listen to him for once.”

_Something he’s wanted to do for a long time? Ask her to dance?_

“What?” she repeated. “You want to dance with me?”

He nodded, smiled bashfully. “Yeah. I do.”

“But I…I don’t dance,” she stammered.

“We don’t have to dance,” he assured her. “We can just…sway.”

“Sway,” she repeated. He nodded. “You really want to dance with me? And not with Cashmere or someone?”

“Definitely you. Only you,” he confirmed, and she watched the flush of pink creep up his neck.

She didn’t reply, simply held out her hand to him. Why the hell not?

He was true to his word as they moved to the music. They did nothing but shift from side to side, which was good for her aching feet, but not so much for the curls of lust that were lancing through her from the feel of his hand on the small of her back, the way his fingers twined with hers, the way his thigh would brush against her own if they happened to move a little closer to each other.

_Who was she kidding? She’d watched every single one of his wrestling matches over the years._

“Katniss?” his voice broke through her reverie. “Are you ok?”

She glanced up at him, nodded. “I just…I guess this is just a bit weird. We’ve hardly really talked to each other throughout school, and now we’re dancing together. At Prom of all places.

Peeta shrugged. “You were always the quiet one,” he started. “The person I’d see walking around the halls, minding your own business. And all I’d ever want to do is talk to you. But I didn’t know how.”

“But you did tonight,” she replied.

“I did tonight,” he confirmed, and a smile crept across his face. “Let’s just say I didn’t think I had much to lose.”

_Maybe he didn’t. Maybe Peeta Mellark was going to save Prom for her._

_She was 100% certain he would do a better job of it than Jo’s tequila._


	15. In The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A anonymous prompt: "What’s in the bag and why are you hiding it here?"

“Who the hell are you?”

The voice behind him broke through the silence, and Peeta Mellark closed his eyes in defeat. He’d figured he’d be safe here, in and out within 5 minutes, his load lighter for hiding the backpack for a few hours while he scrounged for food in the woods. He was hungry, weak, probably closer to death than to his destination. And now  _this_.

It seemed the odds weren’t in his favour.

Raising his hands above his head and slowly rising to his feet, he turned, ready to face whoever had discovered him. His eyes widened in shock at who stood before him.

_It was her._

His heart leapt, his pulse raced.  _If it was her, that meant he was close, so close. No more than three days, at most._

_He could get there. He could make it._

“I said who are you?” she repeated, her voice firm, an arrow pointed firmly at his chest. “And what are you doing here?”

“I’m…My name is Peeta,” He managed to mutter, around a mouth that was dry and parched.  _When was the last time he’d had anything to drink?_

She glanced down at the floor. “Ok, Peeta. I’ll repeat my question. What are you doing here? And what’s in the bag; why are you hiding it here?”

He lowered his hands slowly, but still kept them clear of his body, wanted to make sure she didn’t see him as a threat. “I…I’ve left my home, and I’ve been travelling for days. I was hoping just to store my pack here for an hour, just so I could try and find some food.”

She looked him over. “You don’t look much like a hunter  _or_  a gatherer,” she told him bluntly.

“I’m not,” he said simply. “I’m a baker. But I haven’t eaten in two days, and I need food if I’m going to get there.” He looked down at the ground. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

“Me?” she scoffed. He noticed she hadn’t lowered the bow once during their entire conversation. “You don’t even know who I am.”

“Yes I do,” he said softly, looking back up at her, pushing his dirty blond hair off his forehead. “You’re Katniss Everdeen. The Mockingjay. The symbol of the rebellion.”

Her mouth dropped open, and the hand pulling the string taut trembled slightly. “I’m only one of those things,” she muttered.

“No, you’re all three of them,” Peeta replied. “You’re the reason I’m out here, Katniss. You’re the reason I left District Nine, why I-”

“Wait, you’re from District Nine?” Katniss interrupted. The bow and arrow dropped slightly. “What are you doing out in the woods of Twelve? Did you walk here?!”

“I-” he broke off, coughed heavily. It was dry, and made his throat feel like it was coated in sandpaper. “I’m sorry. Do you have any water?”

Her lips firmed as she studied him - her gaze was piercing and unflinching, and he wasn’t offended. After everything she’d been through - the Games, her innocent defiance of the President, and the rumours he’d heard of her refusing to give in to their demands - he didn’t blame her for being suspicious of him. But after a moment, she relented, lowered the bow and reached for a small silver flask that hung from her belt.

“Here,” she said. “You don’t look like you’re from the Capitol anyway.”

Peeta reached for it eagerly, gulping down the cool liquid. It soothed his throat, ran down his neck and past the collar of his shirt in his greediness to drink as much as he could.

“I’m definitely not from the Capitol,” he told her finally, lowering the flask. “That’s no place for someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” she echoed.

He nodded, took a chance and stepped closer to her, close enough that he could smell the lavender and honey and sandalwood that he knew he would forever associate with her from now on.

“A rebel, Katniss. I ran away from Nine because I want to fight.”

“Fight?”

“With the others. I’m going to the rebel base. I’m going to Thirteen.”

Katniss blinked, and scowled. “Don’t make fun of me,” she snapped. “You know as well as I do that Thirteen was destroyed years ago.”

He felt a surge of energy, a surge of pride and enthusiasm he hadn’t felt in days. “Are you sure about that, Katniss? I assure you, Thirteen is very, very active. It may not look it on the surface, but below? It’s a hive of activity that is just the beginning of change.” He took another sip of water, slower this time. “Think of every piece of footage you’ve ever seen, the ‘live crosses’ to Thirteen over the years. There’s one thing that’s always, always the same. A bird flies across the top corner of the screen, every damn time. You think that’s an accident? You think that’s a coincidence?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered stubbornly. She moved to the window, looked out at the play of the dark clouds across the sky. “Look, I’ve got some food here, you can take it. But wherever you’re going, you’d better go quick. Stay the night, whatever. But the Capitol is moving around this area a lot, and you don’t want to be caught out here by them. I know…I know what happens to people they catch out here.” She dug into the satchel she had over her shoulder, pulled out a ball wrapped in cloth, and something leathery looking. “There’s bread and cheese in there - make it last. And here’s…here’s some gloves. I don’t need them, but with the weather moving in, you will.”

Peeta reached for the items, his fingers brushing against hers for the slightest of seconds. They both stared at each other in shock at the spark that jolted between them at the touch.

Within 5 minutes, she was gone again, leaving him alone in a small cabin in the woods.

The next morning, after the best sleep he’d had since he’d left Nine, he headed in the direction he knew Thirteen was.

He hoped he would see her again one day.


	16. Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from jhutchmyanchor, with inspiration from jeeno2 - Everlark "You have no idea do you?""

The midday sun was hot, caused beads of sweat to gather along her hairline and slide down her back. It wouldn’t be so bad if she was able to be in the ocean with everyone else in town, swimming and splashing and having fun.

No, instead it was her job to sit here, to observe and watch and make sure that no-one drowned on her watch.

It was Katniss’ first season as a lifeguard, a gig that Madge had told her paid decently enough, gave her her nights free, and ensured she spent her days outside, rather than being stuck inside some stupid department store or tending bar during her summer vacation.  But even that side benefit didn’t make it any easier when it was as hot as hell and her stupid standard issue swimsuit hugged her in all the wrong places.

_You’re doing it for Prim, she reminded herself. To help her get into college._

She scanned the waterline, lifted a hand to block out the sun, watched as two kids built a sandcastle that immediately got decimated by an older sibling. She saw two teenage girls sunbathing, oiled up so much that their bronze skin gleamed, in bikinis that left little to the imagination. A group of guys played frisbee a little further down the beach, laughing and joking as one of them tumbled head over feet in an attempt to catch the circular object as it flew in his direction.

“Pretty quiet today, huh?” Madge said, sidling up beside her lifeguard chair, breaking her quiet study. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, her sunglasses pushed up on top of her head, while her arms hugged a purple backpack to her stomach.

“Thank goodness,” Katniss replied. “After the amount of injuries we had yesterday, a quieter day was definitely needed.”

“Mmmm,” Madge agreed. She leant against the chair, the top of her head nudging Katniss’ knee. “I’m heading off now, but wanted to check with you before I did - Gale and I are heading to Abernathy’s tomorrow night for a drink. Wanna join?”

Katniss wrinkled her nose. “And hang out while you guys do nothing but make out all night? No thanks.”

“Oh come on,” Madge needled her. “I promise we’ll be good.” She poked at Katniss’ foot, kept poking until it twitched, and she was batted away by Katniss’ heel.

“Fine,” Katniss sighed. “I’ll come. But the minute you guys start-”

“HELP!”

Katniss’ head flew up at the sound, her eyes wide and alert as she looked out over the beach in front of her. She couldn’t see anything at first - and then there was the telltale erratic wave of hands above the water.

_Shit._

She leaped from the chair, her rescue tube in hand as she sprinted across the sand to the waterline. Her legs pumped as she swung them through the shallow waters, then dove into the choppy waves. Her heart pounded even as she tried to breathe with every third stroke; she’d only had to make one rescue herself prior to today, and she hoped she’d be able to do it successfully this time too.

Pausing to take a quick look around, she was terrified to find that she couldn’t see anyone.  _He was gone. Oh god._

Gulping in a deep breath, she dove under, trying to adjust her eyes to the salty water surrounding her. She caught a glimpse of him then, just under the surface. She headed straight for him.

Tucking her arm across his chest and under his armpit, she kicked against the water, pushed up to break through to the surface. She sputtered, and so did he, both gulping in air heavily.

“Are you ok?” Katniss said loudly, and he nodded, eyes closing. She pulled on the cord connected to the rescue tube, held it out to him. “Here, hold onto this. It will help you to float as we go back to shore, ok?”

He nodded again, wrapping his arms around the tube.

She swam back, pulling his body with hers. He was heavy, and not even his weak kicks helped to propel them any quicker. Finally, they reached the shallow waters, and Finnick and Annie were able to help her get him onto the sand; she hovered over him in concern as he continued to lay there, chest heaving.

“Sir, can you open your eyes? Can you tell me if you’re injured at all?”

He shook his head, then opened his eyes. She blinked.

_They were possibly the brightest blue she’d ever seen._

“Shiiiiiiiiiit,” he groaned. “Those bastards can get the damn frisbee themselves next time.”

“What?” she asked. “Sir, are you feeling ok?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just…my buddy can’t aim for shit…” he took another deep breath. “Frisbee straight into the water. I missed it, I have to retrieve it.”

She nodded. “Ok, did you get caught in a rip? Did you cramp up? I need you to tell me what happened while you were out there.”

His face, which had been pale and white, suddenly flushed. “I, uh…um…”

Then she remembered his lacklustre kicks, and her heart dropped. “Sir, do you know how to swim?”

“Yeah. Well…kinda.”

She scowled, look around at the people surrounding them. One in particular looked like he was ready to pass out. “You his friend?” she snapped, and he nodded nervously. “You sent him into the water knowing he couldn’t swim properly?”

“I didn’t know he couldn’t!” he protested.

“Dammit, you have no idea, do you? He could have died!” She  shook her head in frustration, looked back down to her patient. “Sir, I’m going to help you up to the infirmary ok? We need to make sure you’re alright. Finnick here will help me.”

He nodded. “Take me wherever you need to. And please don’t call me sir. I’m Peeta.” He coughed. “And, uh,  thanks for saving me.”

“Anytime, Peeta. It’s my job.”

********

The next night, the beer slid down Katniss’ throat, icy cold and wet and so damn earned. The rescue the day before had taken it out of her - as had trying not to inappropriately stare at the man who she’d had to talk through an incident report.

His blond hair had dried into soft waves that tumbled over his forehead, and his shoulders were broad and golden from the sun. A smattering of pale hair covered his chest, and led a trail from his navel to underneath the boardshorts he wore. And his eyes…well, it had taken every ounce of her professionalism not to keep staring into them.

In the end, he’d left, she’d finished her report, and then had to close out the final hour of her shift. And all the while all she could think about was the young, good-looking guy she’d rescued.

Kicking back in the booth, she rested her head on the back of the seat as she took another swallow. She ignored Gale and Madge as they made googly eyes at each other on the other side, and slowly gazed around the room, taking in the Saturday night crowd. And locked eyes with a very familiar pair.

He raised a hand in acknowledgement, turned to his friend and said something to him. Then headed straight for her.

_Oh shit._

“Katniss, hey!” he greeted with a smile as he arrived at their table.

She shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Hi Peeta. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m good, I’m good. I slept pretty well last night, then decided I’d get out for awhile tonight with some friends. Brush with death and all that, so figured I’d live it up a little.”

“At Abernathy’s?” she asked wryly. He grinned.

“Wellll….to be honest I heard you speaking in the infirmary; you mentioned you were coming here tonight. I, uh, kind of wanted to thank you again.”

“You already thanked me yesterday,” she told him firmly.

He shrugged, shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Alright. Is it better, then, if I say that I just plain wanted to see you again?”

Her brow furrowed. “You…wanted to see me again?”

Peeta nodded. “Yeah. I did. It’s not every day a beautiful girl saves your life, and you know nothing about her except her name.” She blushed, felt the pink creep up her neck and across her cheeks. “So, uh, can I buy you a drink?”

She glanced over at Madge and Gale, who were suddenly watching them with innate curiousity, and stood.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll come to the bar with you.”

Peeta grinned, wide and bright and charming. “I’d like that.”

 


	17. Without Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from hashtagpeeta, aka c-r-roberts - "Everlark, "I won’t stay long. I just had to see you.""

He couldn’t sleep. Already, he’d twisted and turned for hours; he’d counted sheep, had counted backwards from a hundred, had even tried to list as many colours as he could remember until his head was a mass of teal and pink and tangerine and emerald.

None of it had helped.

He stared at the ceiling, watched the shadow of the trees outside play against it as their branches shifted slightly in the gentle night breeze. He listened to the crickets chirping, and the hoot of owls in the distance. Listened to Haymitch’s bloody geese as they honked noisily or whatever the hell sound they made.

And decided enough was enough.

Peeta slipped from the bed, careful not to trip over the shirt he’d discarded earlier in the night, and crept down the hallway. He tried not to interrupt her too often, especially not when things were still so new, and they were still getting used to each other. But tonight, he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he saw her.

Moving into the room at the end of the hall, he crossed to her in the corner, knelt beside where she slept. She looked so peaceful, so serene, and he was thankful that whatever dreams she was having appeared to be good ones. He didn’t want to wake her, not while she needed the sleep.  _He just wanted to be with her, be near her._

For a while he was silent, until he found his voice. “I won’t stay long,” he finally whispered into the darkness. He slid his hand across the sheet, traced a finger across her hand and marveled at how soft her skin was. “I just had to see you.”  

Of course, in sleep, she didn’t say anything back, so he continued.

“Sometimes…sometimes I still can’t believe you’re real, that you’re here. With me. We’ve been through so much to get here. And I’m not sure I could ever love you more than I do now.”

“I’m sure you will, Peeta.”

He turned, looked over to where his wife was leaning against the doorway to the room, her arms crossed over her chest. With a soft smile on her face, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and in the thin green nightshirt she’d worn to bed, he couldn’t imagine her looking any more beautiful than she did right now.

“I don’t know,” he mused quietly, holding out his hand to her and gesturing her over. Katniss moved towards him, threaded her fingers through his. “She looks pretty damn perfect at the moment.”

Katniss tugged on his hand, drew him to his feet. “You’ve said that every day since she was born.”

“Well, it’s been true,” he argued quietly, pressing his lips to her temple.

Katniss leant into him, allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “I heard you when you left the room,” she whispered, and he smiled wryly, knowing that no matter how much he tried, he would never be light-footed like her. “I figured you’d come in here.”

“I just needed to see her,” he admitted, and she nodded.

“I know. Sometimes I can’t believe she’s here either,” Katniss agreed. “But she is.”

He hummed under his breath, pulled his wife in a little closer to him. “She is,” he agreed. “I love you, you know.”

“And I love you too. Both of you.”

And Peeta knew it was something he would never, ever take for granted.


	18. Not Going Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from madamemarquise - ""This is where I live." Everlark, who else? :-)"

When he’d asked, Haymitch hadn’t seen her, not since their dinner the night before.

It had been a normal Tuesday evening - they’d shared two rabbits Katniss had caught in hastily set snares in the woods behind her house, bread he’d baked fresh, and a small cake Sae had left behind that morning. Later they’d sat on her back porch, chuckling as they watched Haymitch fight through his flock of geese just to reach his front door, and had then pointed out images and shapes in the stars to each other. It had become something they did often; a simple, mundane act that kept their minds occupied and the mood light.

After, they’d moved to her room, like they did every other night - he’d changed in the small bathroom, still prepared to give her every bit of privacy she needed - and then they’d slid between the cool sheets, space between their bodies, but their fingers interlocked between them. He’d found that even that simple touch helped keep her tethered, helped to ward off the nightmares that had haunted her for so long. She hadn’t had one in over two weeks, and though he’d never said it - and neither had she - they’d both known they’d been sleeping better from the moment he’d begun to spend every night in her bed.

And so he’d closed his eyes, knowing that the morning would follow the same routine it had the day before, and the day before, and the day before that.

_Slowly, as Fall had edged closer to winter, and the nights had become cooler, their bodies had begun to drift towards each other in the night, and they’d wake up in a tangle of limbs. Katniss’ eyes would blink open lazily, and then a flush would creep across her cheeks when she realised just how close they were. She would mutter an embarrassed good morning, and would slip from the bed, disappear downstairs to make breakfast. Peeta would continue to lie tangled in the sheets and stare at the ceiling, willing his traitorous body to calm itself down so early in the morning._

But he’d known it was different the moment his eyes had flown open while the room had still been dark, and he could hear her whimpers, interspersed with muffled murmurs and strangled sobs. Her hand had been clenched around his so hard it had almost felt bloodless and she’d been curled around him tightly, almost as though she couldn’t get close enough.

So he’d instinctively wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in; had pressed his lips against her sleep-mussed hair as he’d whispered incoherent words, nothing more than a mechanism to soothe her.

Her eyes had opened then, her head shifting slightly so that she’d been looking into his, a combination of confusion and fear and terror and…something else he hadn’t been able to identify in the silver depths. He’d wanted to tell her it was ok, that he wouldn’t let her go, that he was here for her, that they were here for each other. That he loved her. But he couldn’t say that, not yet. So instead, he’d done something he hadn’t done in a long time.

He’d kissed her.

It had been gentle, soft, undemanding. It was a kiss to soothe, to comfort - and he’d been shocked when her lips had begun to move back against his, just as soft and slow.

Eventually he’d drawn away to lightly kiss her eyelids, her temples, and when he’d stopped, she’d sighed, moved her head so it had rested against his chest. Her body had relaxed, and while he’d tried to calm his thundering heart, her breathing had changed. She’d fallen asleep.

And then he’d woken again, sun streaming through the window, the sheets cool beside him. The kitchen had been silent, and when he’d stumbled to the back door, it had been left wide open, her boots gone and her jacket missing.

By lunchtime, she hadn’t returned, and the nerves and guilt had twisted in his gut. So he’d traipsed across the street, where Haymitch had grunted his lack of information and Peeta had been left none the wiser.

He’d searched the house - every closet, every cupboard, every space where someone could hide. He’d done the same at his own house, before he’d headed for the fenceline, tried to see if she’d left any telltale sign that she’d gone through to the woods. When that had proved fruitless, he’d gone to the meadow.

There still hadn’t been a sign of her. And then he’d wondered how it had taken him so long to realise it.

He’d found her in the Seam, in the old abandoned house that was nothing but an empty shell. She’d curled herself up into a ball in the corner of the dusty room that she’d once shared with Prim, and he’d ached at the sight of her.

He hadn’t said a word, had simply sat on the floor beside her and drawn her into his arms. She’d been limp, her eyes unfocused, and they’d sat in silence, her fingers occasionally grasping the sleeve of his shirt.

When she’d finally spoken, her voice had been broken and cracked.

“You’ll leave me, you know. Just like everyone else has. And I can’t afford to be hurt like that again.”

He’d shaken his head, had reached forward and tucked a lank lock of hair behind her ear, before curving his fingers under her chin. He’d lifted it gently, so that Katniss had nowhere to look but at him. Her eyes had been red-rimmed and puffy, her lips pressed together firmly. “I’m not going anywhere, Katniss. This is where I live. Here, with you, in Twelve. That will never change,” he’d told her firmly.

She’d clenched her teeth together; her throat had bobbed as she’d swallowed heavily. “Are you sure?” she’d asked, and he’d nodded.

“I won’t leave you. Ever. I promise.”

The next morning, when they woke in her bed, she was still wrapped around him. And this time, she stayed there.

 


	19. Santa Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anon prompt, who was after some Christmas party fluff.

Katniss adjusted the red Santa hat on her head, then puffed out a breath at the pom-pom that flopped over into her face. She pushed it back in annoyance.

“This is ridiculous,” she huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

“I know,” Madge agreed, tossing her long, blonde ponytail over her shoulder, making the bells tied to the end jangle loudly. “Why can’t we just get to the alcohol portion of the evening already?”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “I meant the whole night, Madge,” she replied. She glanced around the work conference room that had been bedecked in Christmas decorations - the copious amounts of baubles and mistletoe, and the garlands of tinsel that hung from the rafters and from every window. “I don’t even know why we have to do this.”

“You’ve heard of Christmas spirit, right?” Madge asked wryly.

“Yep. And I’d feel it a hell of a lot more if I was at home with Prim, than here right now.”

Her friend laughed. “You know, you fit right in with the theme tonight. You’re the Grinch.”

“Ha ha,” Katniss retorted. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Christmas. She did, a lot, especially when Prim was home from college  _(_ _even if she’d brought her new boyfriend with her, one Katniss wasn’t entirely 100% sold on)_. So tonight, she didn’t particularly want to be at her work Christmas party; she’d much rather be at home with Prim  _(and the boyfriend, she supposed)_ , watching Gremlins and getting slightly drunk beside her own Christmas tree. Not the one Effie, the office secretary, had decorated so much it looked like the North Pole had exploded in their office.

_Of course, her lack of desire at attending the Christmas party had everything to do with Prim, and absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Peeta wasn’t there, that he’d already left for Philly earlier that afternoon to spend the holidays with his parents. Nothing at all._

“Welcome, welcome, everyone, to this years Abernathy Agricultural Services Christmas Party!” Effie’s over-exuberant voice crackled through the portable speaker set up at the front of the room, practically every word punctuated with enthusiasm. “I know we’re all eager to get into a few drinks this evening -  _be responsible please, people!_  - but first, Mr Abernathy would like to say a few words!” She delicately handed the microphone over to their perpetually annoyed boss, clapped her hands in a way that demanded everyone else follow along.

Katniss didn’t listen to a word her boss said.

She was used to Peeta being there to keep her company, to be her side-kick during these stupid social events. Madge was great, of course - but Katniss already knew that three vodkas in, Madge would have reindeer antlers on her head, and she’d be singing  _I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus_  at the top of her lungs. No, Peeta was the one who let her snark and make fun of Effie and would stop her from meeting Madge drink for drink. Much like he’d been her off-sider, her cohort, her partner in crime since they’d both walked into orientation on their first day on the job three years earlier.

But this year, he’d left her alone.

_Not that it mattered. She’d do fine._

With a sigh, she dug the heel of her ballet flat into the carpet, wrinkled her nose in annoyance. Who was she kidding? Of course it mattered. She’d finally admitted to herself that she liked him, had been planning on using a little bit of liquid courage tonight to get her across the line to admit it to him, and then he’d told her he was leaving early.

And her secret wish of a kiss under the mistletoe had been dashed.

She heard a faint smattering of applause, and looked up to see Haymitch tossing the microphone back to Effie, and heading straight for the bar that had been set up in the corner of the large room. Music started up -  _juiced up versions of Christmas carols_ \- and the sound in the room swelled as conversation picked up.

“Drink, Katniss?” Madge asked, resting a hand on Katniss’ elbow lightly to get her attention.

Katniss shrugged. “I guess so. Just one or two. Then I’ll go home.”

********

One or two became three or four. Or five. And on an empty stomach, no less, Katniss was feeling pretty smashed.

Someone had successfully spiked the punch, one of the sleazy sales guys had already chatted up the new junior receptionist and was making out with her in the corner, Effie was running around the room frantically trying to clean up any spills as they happened and a Santa in a bright red suit and the fluffiest beard she’d ever seen was making the rounds, handing out candy canes.

_So, basically, it was like every other Christmas party they’d had._

“Madge,” she groaned, dropping her head into her hands. They were seated at one of the high-top tables in the middle of the crowded room, glasses, straws, coasters and a stray ice cube scattered across the table.

“Yuhhhhhh?” Madge replied. As suspected, reindeer antlers were already in place.

“I gotta tell Peeeeeeta.”

“Gotta tell Peeta whaaat? That he’s a bumhead for not being here tonight? BUMHEAD!” she crowed louder, then laughed.

“Yes, yes, that he’s a bumhead!” Then Katniss shook her head, raised it again so she could look at Madge. “No, no, not that! No, I have to tell him that I… _like him_.” She was at least coherent enough to know she had to lower her voice to say something like that.

Madge’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You like him? Peeta?” she hissed. “Really?”

“Yes,” Katniss sighed. She sucked on the straw in her current glass until it was empty. “I like Peeta Mellark. And it’s the worst.”

“Why?”

“Ugh, Madge. Because he’s him and I’m me, and we’re friends and I’m stupid. And…and I need another drink.” She pulled herself off the stool and headed to the bar, wondered if the hired bartender would let her just take the bottle. If she was this far gone, she may as well make the most of a girls night with Madge, and commiserate her lost chance with Peeta.

********

_Behind her, in a Santa suit that was making him sweat like hell and that he’d only agreed to wear because he was going to get paid a hell of a lot of overtime for stepping in at the last minute, Peeta Mellark’s eyes were wide and his heart was pounding erratically._

_Holy shit. Katniss Everdeen liked him._

_********_

_“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock, jingle bell- uh, what’s the frigging next word again?”_

Katniss sniggered into her glass as Madge, who had been trying - mostly unsuccessfully - to recreate the dance scene in Mean Girls, looked over at her for help with the lyrics. She absolutely  wasn’t going to help her. First, because she didn’t sing in public. And two…

Well, she was drunk. And still kind of frustrated with the fact that her plans for the night had gone awry.

Slumping down a little further in her seat, she kicked her legs out, crossed them at the ankles, and watched as Delly from HR pitched in, her voice about as bad as Madge’s. She was surprised by how late the Christmas party had kicked on. By this time other years, Katniss mused, people had normally headed for home - but this year, for some reason, everyone had decided to make it their aim to drink as much as they could and stay out as late as they wanted.

Which meant the room was still packed and the alcohol was still flowing. Good for them that Haymitch was always pretty generous when it came to this type of thing.

Lifting her butt and fumbling in the pocket of her jeans for her phone, she looked at the blank screen. No messages. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Normally by now she would have had at least one message from Peeta, maybe one telling her he’d gotten home ok. But nothing.  _Asshole._ She tossed it on the seat beside her in disgust.

“Ho, ho, ho, pretty lady, that isn’t the way to treat your phone, is it?” A booming voice said from overhead. Katniss glanced up to see the dude dressed as Santa in front of her, his hands resting on his plentiful belly and his blue eyes twinkling. There was something familiar about them, but she didn’t know what it was.

“Whatever. Leave me alone, Santa,” she scowled, realising how stupid she sounded the minute the words were out of her mouth. She reached for the phone, shoved it back in her pocket. He took the opportunity of the seat being empty to lower his weight gently into the chair.

“What’s got you so down tonight?” he asked, his voice deep and questioning. Katniss lifted her drink, drained it of vodka -  _at least, she thought it was vodka, she couldn’t even tell anymore_  - and shrugged.

“Not in the mood,” she muttered. Somewhere along the line, she’d gone from buzzed and girls-night-out drunk, to melancholy. She wished she was still on the same page as Madge, who was now twirling happily in circles with Delly and Bristel.

_Nope, maybe not._

“But it’s Christmas! Surely it’s time for you to have fun, and spend the night with your friends.”

Katniss folded her arms across her chest, slumped down even further.  “Well, my best friend is a…a…a…” Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember what Madge had called him earlier. “A bumhead! And he didn’t come.”

“He?” Santa enquired. “Your best friend is a boy?”

 _This Santa was super dumb. Wasn’t he supposed to know_ _all this stuff?_  “Yesssssss,” she replied, dragging it out. “My best friend is a boy, and he left to go home early and he’s a bumhead.”

She heard was suspiciously sounded like a chuckle rumble in his chest. “Well, ahem…I’m sure he wishes he was here.”

Katniss set her jaw, then sighed, and just wished for another damn drink. “Me too,” she muttered, then glanced sideways at the Santa as an idea hit her. “Can I tell you what I wanted for Christmas, Santa?”

“Uh, sure.”

She leant towards him, then pulled back.  _Nope. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it properly._

She jumped up from her seat and plopped herself onto his lap, ignoring the oof that sounded from him when her weight settled. It had been years since she’d visited Santa, and Prim would laugh if she saw her now. That thought alone made her giggle. “This alright? You’re used to this at shopping malls, yeah?”

“Uhhhh…”

“Good!” As she leant in a little closer - to make sure no-one heard what she was about to admit - Katniss noted that he kind of smelt like Peeta, and that was nice.  

“Santa, I think I like my best friend.”

“Stop.”

She blinked. “What?”  _What the hell kind of Santa was this?_

“I said stop, Katniss.”

_Woah. A stalker Santa!_

“How do you know my name?” She asked, wide-eyed. Then she  _ahhh-ed_  in realisation. “Of course! You’re Santa! You know everyone’s name!”

“No, Katniss. It’s me.” It was then she noted the change in the voice, from the deep Santa baritone to one she heard every day. One that went with the bright blue eyes that were currently half hidden by bushy white eyebrows and a red hat and-

Katniss scrambled off his lap, falling on her ass on the floor before pulling herself to her feet. “Oh my god, _Peeta_?!!” she hissed.

He nodded, rising to his feet beside her. “I’m sorry Katniss, I-”

Her eyes widened, and he stopped mid-sentence at the look on her face.

_She’d just told him she liked him. Oh god._

Sobriety in the form of horror hit her like a tonne of bricks.

Without another word, she whirled on her feet -  _only slightly stumbling_ \- and ran out of the room into the hall. And despite the added weight of his Santa costume, Peeta was hot on her heels. “Katniss, stop! Wait!”

Katniss was halfway down the corridor when she stopped, and turned back to him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, despite the fact that she’d wanted him here all night.

“I…Haymitch’s regular called out late. He asked me to step in, and I agreed, under anonymity and a hell of a lot of overtime. He agreed. That’s why…that’s why I told you I was leaving early.” He yanked the Santa hat off his head - which took the eyebrows with it - and suddenly she could see the golden mop of hair and blue eyes she’d slowly dreamed of more and more recently. “I’m sorry, I should have told you-”

She threw her arms up. “Of course you should! I just sat on your lap and admitted I like you!”

“Actually I uh..” he blushed, a faint trace of pink covering his cheeks. “I, uh, heard you speaking to Madge earlier…”

“Oh my god!” She dropped her head into her hands. “I called you a bumhead,” she groaned, then shot her head back up and glared at him when he laughed.

“Well, it’s kind of funny,” he told her.

“It’s childish and stupid and-”

“Right up Madge’s insult alley,” he smiled, and before she could stop herself, she smiled back. Then frowned again.

“No, Peeta. We’re not friends right now. You tricked me into telling you I liked you.”

“I didn’t!” Peeta proclaimed. “I just sat beside you and then I was going to tell you and then you crawled on my lap, and shit I couldn’t think!”

“You could have told me not to!”

“But I didn’t want to! I wanted you to. Just like I’ve always wanted you to!”

Katniss opened her mouth to yell back at him, then paused. “Wait, what?”

Peeta stepped towards her -  _even though he couldn’t get too close with the size of his Santa belly_  - his eyes sincere. “Katniss, I’ve been in love with you for so long.”

Her jaw dropped, even while her heart pounded anxiously and her head swum.  _Holy shit._

“I wanted to tell you tonight, and then Haymitch asked me to do this, and then I thought, well I can tell her later and-”

She cut him off mid-sentence as she flung herself at him, not caring about the padded stomach, or the fluffy beard that still covered that jaw or the fact that he was dressed as Santa. She pressed her lips to his, the alcohol still coursing through her blood giving her that final impetus to kiss him. And even though the beard was fluffy and felt like a marshmallow against her cheeks and chin, it was exactly what she’d wanted. His lips were warm and soft and needy and his arms were wrapped around her and even though she couldn’t feel his heart beating against her chest because of that damned Santa suit, she could at least pretend he was pressed up against her.

Later, when they went back into the conference room, Madge was singing “I saw Katniss kissing Santa Claus!” at the top of her lungs, and Katniss did nothing but smile.


	20. Not Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt for 'Forbidden!Everlark', from muttpeeta, aka atetheredmind.

“You looked so damned hot today.”

Katniss tucked the phone in between her ear and her shoulder, picked up the remote and muted the tv, before dropping it back to the coffee table beside her.

She’d known this call was coming.

“Oh really?” she asked. She made sure her voice was flat, bored. She didn’t want him to think she’d spent all day wondering if he’d seen her.

_(Which she had, but that didn’t matter.)_

“Absolutely. You should get them to send you out to firehouses more often.”

Katniss snorted, pulled her legs up so they were curled underneath her, and dropped her head to the back of the sofa. “Peeta, I was in a firefighter uniform ten times my size.”

“But it was hot,” Peeta argued down the line. “It was all I could do not to imagine what was underneath it. Hot, I tell you.” She heard him clear his throat, followed by the sound of glass clinking on glass - she knew he was likely sprawled on his shitty old La-Z-Boy, with a beer on his side table. “So did you watch _me_  this morning?”

She glanced up at the tv, at the bright blue eyes and artfully rumpled blond hair that filled the screen. His face was serious, and his mouth was expressive as he told a story she couldn’t hear.  ”No,” she lied.

"Liar. I bet you’ve got it on your DVR,” he retorted, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

She remembered the first time she’d heard that voice, at an industry dinner 7 months earlier. Normally they were as boring as hell; she’d have one drink, steal a couple hors d’oeuvres, then hotfoot it back home within 45 minutes. But this time she’d been standing beside the buffet, listening to Caesar crap on about who knows what, when she’d heard it. A voice smooth as silk, warm as honey and a deep laugh to accompany it. She’d half turned to look over her shoulder, and had caught his eye.

She was certain she’d blushed from head to toe.

Whoever he was, he was hot. And  _way_  out of her league.

But…she’d stayed a little longer this time.

He’d sought her out after about an hour, simple conversation about nothing and everything. He’d been attentive and interesting - and as sexy as hell. Close up his eyes were warm, a blue reminiscent of the lake near her childhood home, with a few crinkles at the corners evidence that he wasn’t an industry newbie. His blond waves looked soft, his smile bordered the edge between charming and sultry, and his shoulders were broad, tapering to a slim waist emphasised by the tailored grey suit he wore.

Yep. Sexy as  _hell_.

He was new to the city, he’d explained, and was still getting to know those in the business. She’d found herself telling him she’d been the breakfast show weather reporter for Channel 12 for two years, since a guest spot talking about weather patterns and their effect on rainforests had led to a permanent gig. She’d always expected to be a conservationist -  instead, her dry delivery, no bull-shit attitude, and a passion for the outdoors had appealed to the show’s producer, Haymitch Abernathy. Now she spent her weeks being sent to all ends of Panem to do random shit like rappel down cliffs and dress up in firefighter gear as she told Panem-ites whether to expect rain or not.

Mid-way through the conversation, they’d been interrupted by the MC launching into a speech, and Grey Suit had disappeared into the crowd. Katniss had realised then that neither had shared their name, and in an ass-kissing industry like this one, that was almost unheard of.

The following  week, when she’d been flipping through channels just before going to bed at the embarrassing time of 7pm, she’d seen him. Suited up and looking slick on a commercial.

Peeta Mellark. New co-anchor for the breakfast show on Channel 74. Their major rival.

_Fuck._

But the knowledge that they were rivals hadn’t stopped him two days later.

When the ‘Unknown Number’ had flashed on her caller ID at 6.08pm on a Thursday evening, she’d automatically picked it up, thinking it was her little sister.

It hadn’t been.

“So your name is Katniss Everdeen,” he’d started, with no introduction or preamble.

“Born with it,” she’d replied snappily. “Who is this?”

“Peeta Mellark. I thought it only right that we introduce ourselves properly after we did so poorly at the dinner last week.”

Katniss had snorted. “You knew very well who I was the minute I told you what I do. You’re the one who kept me in the dark, buddy. Now, as a fellow early riser, you’ll understand why I want to go get ready for-“

“My name is Peeta Mellark,” he’d interrupted smoothly. “I’m 34, and I graduated from college with a dual degree in journalism and politics. I used to work at…” He’d given her his bio, and when he ended, he’d simply said Now you know who I am, recited his number to her and bid her a goodnight.

She’d stared at the phone for a good 5 minutes, wondering what the hell had just happened.

What  _did_ end up happening was a nightly phone call. He always rang her, and she supposed she had the option of not answering.

But she always did.

She found herself looking forward to his calls, laughing at his witty banter until far later into the night than her alarm clock liked. She enjoyed it when he sought her out for ‘friendly conversation’ at media functions, and when his hand would absently rest on the small of her back if someone else got too close to her as they walked past.  And as the months progressed, they found themselves attending more of the same events, fraternising in the same social circles.

Which made the conversations they had at night, the casual coffees they caught up for on the outskirts of town on a Saturday afternoon and the blisteringly hot kisses they’d begun to share whenever they could garner a private moment, harder and harder to keep to themselves.

Katniss shook her head, brought herself back to the present, and away from the thoughts of Peeta’s lips on hers, and his hand sliding up her-

“So what if I do have it on my DVR?” She asked indignantly, cutting off the mental images before she got too carried away.

Peeta laughed softly. “Nothing at all. I kind of like the idea of you…watching me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, Mellark, whatever.”

“What, you don’t like my lame flirting?”

“Lame flirting isn’t your best attribute.”

“No? What is my best attribute then?” His voice had taken on that deep, lustful tone that never failed to make her want to drag him into dark corners.

“Your baking skills,” she said blithely, making reference to a celebrity cooking challenge he’d taken part in recently. He laughed, then sighed.

“Dammit, Katniss. I need to see you.”

She scrubbed a hand across her face - she’d known this part of the conversation was coming. “You know we can’t, Peeta. Snow would have your hide on a platter if he knew about us. If there’s anything he hates more than Channel 12 as a whole, it’s  _Daybreak_  itself,” she reminded him.

“I don’t care about Snow,” Peeta retorted.

“You should, he’s the head of your damn network,” she snapped, then immediately softened her voice. “Look, you know I…”

“I what?”

Katniss took a deep breath. “You know as well as I do that I’d like to go public with this, but we can’t. You can’t afford to risk your job, Peeta. And you  _know_  Snow would threaten you with it. That breakfast show of yours is his baby, and if he thinks you’re not 100% committed to it, then he won’t think you’re worthy of it. I just…you’ve worked too hard to get where you are to ruin it all.”

“He couldn’t fire me over something like this,” Peeta argued.

“No, but he’d find some other way of doing it,” Katniss replied firmly. “I’ve seen it happen before. Remember Finnick Odair?” She heard Peeta’s exhalation of breath. “Yeah, see what I mean?”

“I know Katniss, but…” he’d trailed off, and was quiet for so long she was almost worried he’d fallen asleep or something. Suddenly his voice came echoing down the phone again. “No, I can’t keep doing this. I need to see you. I need to be  _with_  you.”

She twisted the end of her oversized nightshirt between her fingers, tried not to focus on the way her stomach pitched every time he said  _I need you_. She shouldn’t. It was crazy. Ridiculous. Stupid. Practically forbidden.

“Okay,” she finally whispered, closing her eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

True to his word, he was knocking on her front door twenty minutes later, a soft orange hoodie pulled low over his head, hiding his trademark waves.

“No one can know,” she told him. “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, reaching for her hand and stepping inside.


	21. Starting Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acciograce prompted me with "Everlark and an unexpected reunion"

He’s not meant to be here. But he is.

I could  _kill_  Haymitch right now.

We sit quietly in the relatively empty front parlor of Haymitch’s house, the only room that ever seems to stay clean. Mostly because he doesn’t use it. ‘ _Too proper. Feels like I got a stick up my ass every time I step foot in here’_  I’ve heard him say more than once.

It’s a pretty fair assessment. Except right now, it’s not just the room that makes me feel uncomfortable. It’s Peeta.

We haven’t been near each other for 4 months. Not since we stepped off that train and walked in opposite directions. Him, towards his brother, with the knowledge that I’d been pretending. Me, towards Prim, with the knowledge that I’d quite possibly broken his heart without realising it.

I wish I could say I’ve tried to speak to him since then. But I haven’t. Prim’s accepted his bread, and I’ve done nothing but watch him from my bedroom window as he hugs his jacket tighter to him in the cooler mornings, as he heads…somewhere. I don’t know where. I asked Haymitch once and he’d told me it wasn’t any of my damned business.

I get the feeling he knew about as much as I did.

Now, here we are. Same room. Same cookies I eat at home sitting on a chipped plate on the table in front of us. Same mentor staring us down from the other side of the room. Same frosty countenance between Peeta and I.

_What a hell of a reunion._

“Haymitch, what are we doing here?” Peeta asks. His voice is short, the words strung tightly enough together that they feel forced. “I thought I was here to teach you how to bake.”

Haymitch snorts. “You, boy, are here to get talking. You too, sweetheart. Coz surprise - you ain’t here to listen to a message from Cinna.” I scowl at him, and the ruse he used to get me here.  _Bastard._

He leans forward in the embroidered seat he’s slouched in, and I wonder if it’s any more comfortable than the overstuffed love seat Peeta and I are awkwardly perched on. “We got a Victory Tour in less than 2 months, and the two of you are frostier than a pair of bal-” he pauses, and stops himself. “Never mind. In short, you’re supposed to be in love. This-” he gestures between us with a wave of his hand - “Isn’t gonna cut it.”

“We’ll be fine,” Peeta replies, and I have to admire his ‘I don’t give a shit’ tone. “We’re adept enough at pretending.”

“Peeta-” I start, but Haymitch cuts me off.

“Yeah, you are,” he agrees. “But pretending ain’t good enough, I guarantee you now. You’re gonna need some practice. So get practicing.”

“What do you mean by  _practicing_?” I hiss.

Haymitch snorts. “I’m not telling you to kiss the kid, sweetheart. Just - for pities sake, try and see if you can act like you like each other.”

I feel Peeta stiffen beside me. “This will never work,” he says shortly.

“Well it has to. Have fun.” Haymitch stands, and we both gape at him.

“You’re not leaving,” I demand.

“Oh yes I am. I’ll be back this afternoon.” He doesn’t give us another glance, striding out to the hall. I hear the clink of bottles, the opening of the front door, then it shutting. The lock turning.

He’s not stupid. He knows there’s a back door and countless windows we could crawl out of. But his meaning is clear.

Stay.

The long period of silence that follows is awkward, and part of me longs for the times we spoke so freely back in the cave. The other part of me is horrified that I could even think that way about the games. But it highlights one thing to me.

_I miss him._

And even if I can’t feel for him what he feels for me, I feel like I’m missing a part of me. A part of me I only had for a short time and desperately long to have back.

“I…” he opens his mouth, utters a sound, then closes it again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him run a hand through waves already disheveled. “He’s right,” Peeta finally whispers, and with it, a flood of tension leaves the room.

“I know,” I reply just as quietly.

“They’ll be looking at us, all the time.”

“They will.”

“We have to make an effort.”

I sigh. “I know.”

I feel him shift beside me, and I chance a look at him. He has dark circles under his eyes, much like mine, and his jaw is clenched in…concentration? Frustration? Concern? I don’t know.

“I…need to say I’m sorry.” This time I’m more direct with my gaze, and my surprised eyes lock with his.

“Wh-why?” I stammer.

He shrugs. “Because you saved us.” His voice cracks slightly. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for you, and I’ve done nothing but act like a wounded puppy since we got back, just because you didn’t like me like I do-did you. And it’s stupid. And I’m sorry. You…you did what you had to do. For Prim. And me. So thank you.”

If I could form words after that, I would speak. But I can’t. My mouth opens and closes, opens and closes, but nothing comes out. I swallow heavily.

“I…I’m sorry too,” I finally mutter. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You were,” he assures me, and the back of his hand brushes against mine accidentally as he shifts. It makes my pulse jump, but I know it’s nothing but nerves. Then he smiles, just a slight upturn of his lips. “My pride just got a little wounded.”

I tentatively return the smile. “Can we…start over?” I venture. “Be friends?”

“I think we can manage that,” he says, then leans back slightly on the seat. “But first, I need to ask you something.”

My heart drops. “Yes?”

“What’s your favourite colour?”


	22. A Good Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baronesskika, aka authoresskika, prompted me with "Everlark gets arrested"

It encircled her wrist, the sharp edge digging into her soft, olive toned flesh and causing her to wince with every movement she made. It had almost rubbed the skin dry, and she was certain blood would start to bloom and bruise beneath the first layer any minute now.

She’d known Finnick’s idea would get her into trouble.

Katniss tugged on them again, tried to loosen the way the handcuffs kept her arm locked firmly in place. It didn’t matter how much she huffed, puffed, or yanked on them, though - they didn’t budge. With a sigh of frustration, she closed her eyes. She’d gotten herself into this stupid mess, and the only people who knew the plan other than her were the two neighbours who had suggested it, then promptly skipped town for the weekend.

In short, there was no glimmer of hope, no one that was going to come to her rescue.

She thought back to the night before, when Finnick had assured it would be foolproof, easy, and guaranteed her a big score in the end. To her surprise, Annie had nodded her head in agreement, told Katniss it was a good plan.

So, with reluctance and apprehension still a slight shadow hanging over her shoulder, she’d done it. Made sure she was definitely alone in the second floor apartment before shucking off her jeans and tossing them over the kitchen bench, leaving her green t-shirt on the creamy white carpet of the hallway, toeing her shoes off and leaving them at the threshold to the bedroom.

And then handcuffing herself to the wooden rungs of the headboard.

At first she’d felt kind of naughty and sexy in the lacy, pale orange underwear she’d bought specifically for the occasion. She’d thought of all the things she and Peeta could do that night -  _role-playing, Finnick had called it_  - and had been prepared to wait patiently for him to come home from work.

Except that had been two hours ago, her iPhone was on the kitchen counter, she’d left the cuffs key in the back pocket of her jeans and  _damn_ , she needed to pee. Patience had flown out the window a long time ago.

She’d almost lulled herself into a nap through sheer boredom alone when she finally heard the lock of the front door to the apartment turn, and Peeta’s heavy tread as he stepped inside.

“Katniss? You home?” He called.

She let out a soft sigh of relief. “Yes!” she called desperately.

“Sorry I’m late. The staff meeting went way overtime, and on a damned Friday too.” His voice grew confused. “Katniss, where are you?”

“In the bedroom!”

“And why-” Suddenly he appeared in the doorway, her jeans and t-shirt in hand, his mouth open in a wide ‘O’. “Ohhhhhhhh.” Then he grinned as he took in the underwear and the handcuffs. “Well this is a nice surprise.  _Very_  nice.”

She scowled. “Shut it, Mellark, and throw me the keys that are in the back pocket of those jeans.”

He did so, all the while keeping his gaze firmly locked on the way she was practically spilling out of the balconette cups; she palmed the keys in mid air as he tossed them towards her. In a rush, she fumbled with the cuffs, and let out a yelp of success as the metal restraint came free.

Tumbling off the bed and sprinting towards their en suite - full well knowing Peeta was unashamedly staring at her ass as she did so - she slammed the door, promising herself she’d never take Finnick’s advice again.

At least…not without knowing what time Peeta would be home first.


	23. Take Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buttercupisbrainless prompted me with "Let me take care of you."

Even from down the hallway he could hear her grumbles, mutterings that would likely shock Effie down to her bones if she caught wind of them. He wasn’t sure he’d heard Katniss curse so fluently before, but being in the training centre the last few days and hearing Johanna’s uncensored ramblings must have rubbed off on her.

With a soft, almost silent chuckle, Peeta walked into his room and shrugged off his jacket, flung it so that it landed across the bed. He wasn’t sure why Effie insisted they dress so formally just for dinner in the penthouse, but after their first two nights in the Capitol, he and Katniss had learnt not to bother arguing with her about it.

Life was too short to argue.

He wandered into his bathroom and crossed to the sink, scrubbing at his face with water as cold as he could take it. There was something about the water in the Capitol that made his skin feel like it was tingling, and each time he looked at his face, it seemed smoother, shinier.

Sometimes, he wondered what it was. Other times, he figured he just didn’t care enough to want to know.

He kicked his shoes off as he moved back into his room, just in time to hear to Katniss let out another stream of curses. With a bemused smile, he opened his door, crossed the hallway, and knocked on the silver panel that guarded her room.

“What?!” He heard her snarl, and he felt the smile curve even higher at her response.

“It’s Peeta. You ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I’m certain zippers can’t anatomically do what you just cursed them to.”

“Well if they could they might actually be useful,” she snapped, even as the door slid open. She stood in the center of her room, her face flushed, her hair a mess, and her arms looped at weird angles behind her back.

“I can’t get this stupid zipper undone,” she complained, twisting her back slightly to show him. “It’s all well and good having an invisible zipper, or whatever Cinna called it, but if I can’t damn well unzip it to get it off, it’s no good to me.”

Peeta folded his arms across his chest, leant against the door frame. The deep green dress she’d worn to dinner had looked perfect on her - it flowed like silk to her knees, tapering in at the torso, with the slim-fitting sleeves hugging her arms before they ended just past her elbow. The deep v-neck accentuated the slight swell of her breasts, and he’d fought against himself all night not to look.

He’d failed.

He might have already resolved with himself that she would have a life with Hawthorne when all this was said and done, but it didn’t mean he was dead yet.

“Would you like some help?” he offered, and waited for her to look back over at him.

“No,” she said shortly as she pivoted on her heel, her facial features contorting each time her arms moved in her attempts to fight with the zipper. “I can do it myself.”

“Are you sure? Getting me to help with this isn’t the be all and end all, Katniss. It’s just a zipper.”

She dropped her arms in frustration, waved him inside. “Fine,” she muttered. “I guess I can’t wear it to the final session for the Gamemakers tomorrow, so I’ve gotta get it off sometime.”

Peeta moved inside, the door swishing shut almost silently behind him, and he crossed to her. He twirled a finger in the air, and though she rolled her eyes, Katniss dutifully obliged, turning her back to him and shoving her mussed ponytail over her shoulder.

He reached up, peering close at the gathered material at the nape of her neck. “Ahhh,” he said. “No wonder. It’s caught on some of the fabric.”

“Can you undo it? Otherwise, just rip the damn thing. It’s not like I’m going to wear it again anyway,” she said bluntly.

“I can do it without it ripping,” he assured her, and took another step closer. Her body was close, so, so, close, and it would barely take half an inch for his lips to brush against the soft skin that bloomed pink in frustration above the neckline of her dress. He shook his head, knowing he shouldn’t. Couldn’t. “Just…give me a sec.” She nodded her response this time, and he reached up, tugging gently at the material. He worked the zipper slowly, up and down, bit by bit, until he finally felt the silk give way. “There it is,” Peeta said softly.

Then figured  _what the hell_.

He took the zipper in between his fingers, drew it down slightly, his knuckles brushing gently against the bare skin at the top of her back. He felt the shudder run through her, saw the way the small bumps sprung up on her skin. And with his heart thumping out of control, he slid it down a little bit more.

“Is that alright?” he murmured, and whatever sound she made in response wasn’t anything he’d heard tumble from her lips before. Maybe…maybe once, in a cave, long ago. “I mean, I wouldn’t want it to catch on the fabric again.”

“No,” Katniss choked out, like the word had gotten caught in her throat.

With a nod that she couldn’t see, he continued to gently run the zip down her back, his knuckles and the back of his hand drawing an invisible line down her skin. He noticed that both her hands were fisted at her sides, that her toes were wriggling in the strappy sandals she’d worn to dinner, that her breaths were short and sharp. His own movements were slow, methodical, and he almost sighed in disappointment when the zip ended at the small of her back. “There you go.”

He saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath before she turned back to him, her arm automatically reaching up behind her to hold the now-gaping dress together.

“Thank you, Peeta,” she mumbled, and her cheeks were flushed, her eyes looking everywhere but him.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked.

Her eyes flickered nervously to him. “What?”

“Letting me take care of you.” Peeta reached up, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know. Not even the little things, like zippers.”

Katniss chewed down on her lower lip, and he knew it took everything inside of her not to argue with him. Instead she just nodded.

He ran a hand through his hair, before absently rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’d better go to bed. Good night, Katniss.” He moved towards the door, reached his hand towards the button to open it, when her voice called out to him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Peeta?”

He turned back to her, watched the indecision war across her face.

“Yeah?”

She dropped her hands to her sides. “Will you stay?”

He stayed.

 


	24. A Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> perksofbeingpeeta prompted me with introvert!Peeta and extrovert!Katniss. 
> 
> Warning for allusions to adult situations in line with possible Capitol practices.

He squeezed her hand, his fingers gripping hers tightly until his knuckles turned white. “You can do this,” he said, something he’d repeated almost like a mantra since they’d gotten the finalised request earlier that afternoon.

_You can do this, you can do this, you can do this._

_No she couldn’t._

She knew she couldn’t, not with the way her heart raced, and her palms sweated, and with how her head felt empty and useless. Not with the way her stomach somersaulted, and wanted to bring up everything she’d ever eaten.

“How can I?” she murmured. “I can’t be…be engaging, and outgoing and…what was it?  _Exuberant_? I’ll fail, and where will that leave us?”

Peeta shook his head firmly, rubbed his thumb absently against the back of her hand. “You won’t fail. We just have to get through this; I know you can do it. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. I won’t leave you.”

Katniss nodded, then looked away as she swallowed heavily. When she’d -  _they’d_ \- agreed to this, all she’d been thinking about had been Prim’s safety, the safety of Peeta’s brothers.  _Peeta’s_  safety. But she hadn’t really thought of the logistics, of what would actually happen. Of what they’d have to do.

With this, their first request, reality had finally hit.

Tonight, she would have to be a vivacious, outgoing personal assistant. Peeta would be her introverted, inexperienced boss. They’d have to touch and stroke and writhe and kiss while their Capitol patron watched, while his eyes roamed over them hungrily.

And they had no choice but to play the parts.

She’d known, deep down, that it would eventually come to this. Finnick had murmured a warning to her during the days they watched their tributes die during the 75th games; Johanna much the same as they’d waited for their trains back home a week later. And when she’d confronted Haymitch in the middle of his putrid kitchen a week after that, he’d gotten a look in his eye that all but confirmed it to her.

Snow’s letter had arrived two months later, and she’d drunk herself into oblivion in Haymitch’s basement after Peeta had read it aloud, a catch in his voice, and his eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears.

Their marriage wasn’t enough to placate the President, or the people of Panem.

They wanted to be a part of it. They wanted to be involved. They wanted to pay.

They wanted to play.

And you didn’t say no to a  _request_  from the President.


	25. Separate Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alatarielgildaen prompted me with a prompt of Everlark on the run.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” His question was quiet, filled with hesitance. She nodded her head.

“It doesn’t mean anything to me, Peeta. Get rid of it.”

He caught her eye in the mirror that filled the wall in front of them, and she nodded once more, as if to confirm her words.

He lifted the length of her braid into his hand, raised the sharp, silver scissors to a point just below her shoulder blades.

And paused.

It might not mean anything to her, but this simple black braid meant so much to him. Curved over her shoulder as she sat across from him in the diner, wrapped around his hand as his mouth covered hers in hot kisses, the way it would tumble from its confines as she rode over him in the dark.

He swallowed heavily, then took the first snip. Then the second. And the third, until the long braided rope lay limply on the floor, and her hair swung around her shoulders like a curtain.

_Step one done_.

An hour later, her head covered in a wig of deep auburn, and his own blonde curls littering the bathroom floor, they wrapped their arms around each other, nothing but the sound of cars hurtling down the interstate outside the motel breaking the silence between them.

“Is this really the best thing for us to do?” he finally whispered. 

He felt her body shudder. “They’re looking for a couple, Peeta,” she replied hesitantly, as though she knew what she was saying was right, but wasn’t completely assured. “Splitting is the best thing for both of us right now.” Katniss pulled away slightly, lifted a hand to brush it across his now-shorn head. “You know I wouldn’t suggest it if I could think of anything else.”

He shook his head, spoke aloud his greatest fear about their plan. “What if they find you, and I’m not there?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, her eyes filling with tears he knew she wouldn’t allow to fall. “Do you think we’ll see each other again?”

“Of course,” he told her, his arms tightening around her. “We have our plan, and we’ll always find each other.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

They went their separate ways as the sun rose over the mountains, both intent on making sure that Snow never found them.


	26. A Little Hope

He threaded his hand through the long thick lock of dark hair, letting it fall through his fingers back towards the pillow, before his hand crept back up, cupped around her jaw. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone, and she closed her eyes, sighed softly.

She’d never dared to hope for this, not when she’d spent her whole life having every hope she’d had dashed.

But he was here. He was back. His shirt strewn across the foot of the bed, their legs tangled together, his eyes - while tired - still the same ones that had always looked back at her with a love she’d never wanted to acknowledge.

The minute she’d heard Peeta had been rescued, she’d had no choice but to. It had all but overwhelmed her, all but swallowed her whole, and she’d run through the halls of Thirteen before anyone could stop her. The way he’d hugged her when she’d stepped into the medical unit, the way they’d cried in each others arms, and how he’d repeated over and over again “I wouldn’t let them win, I wouldn’t let them win” in a way that made her heart leap and break at the same time - she could no longer deny it. So she’d drifted her fingertips over the black and yellow bruises that had bloomed around his eye, had slipped her other hand gently in his.

And with everyone watching - the doctors, the nurses, even Haymitch - she’d told him she’d loved him.

And he’d kissed her just like their last kiss. The one on the beach, the one that had turned her inside out and made her want more than she’d ever wanted before.

Her eyelids fluttered open; she caught him looking back at her, and she smiled. He leant towards her, pressed his lips to hers, softly, gently. They were warm, tasted of salt, and teased hers until her mouth parted, his tongue tracing her lower lip before he breathed the words.

“I love you Katniss.”

_“I hate you, Katniss.”_

She opened her eyes, the last vestiges of sleep disappearing, dragging with it the lingering feeling of warmth, of comfort. She lifted a hand to her throat, and the cool silver that circled it.

This is why she shouldn’t hope, not even in her dreams.

 


	27. Buttered Bread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arbyeatscheesebuns on tumblr was looking for a drabble where Katniss has to put butter on Peeta’s bread. I obliged ;)

“Butta! Butta! Moooore butta, momma!" Asher Mellark thumped his plump little fist on the kitchen table, his eyes looking pleadingly up at his mother.

"More butter?” Katniss asked, with a wry smile on her face. “Ash, I’ve already put some on. See?” She pointed at the cheese bun on his plate, cut in half and slathered with butter, and dropped into the chair beside him, pushing her already sweaty bangs off her forehead. Summer in Twelve this year was the hottest she could remember.

Asher shook his head, pointed at his father who was sitting across from him, preoccupied with trying to get Holly to drink her juice. “Dada’s!”

Katniss glanced at Peeta, their eyes locking. “What do you mean, baby? Do you…do you want me to put butter on Daddy’s breakfast?”

The little boy nodded, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah! Like meeeee!”

_Where he got the energy to be so upbeat at this time of the morning was beyond her_.

“I, uh…I don’t think Daddy wants butter on his cheese buns, sweetie,” Katniss said quietly. She knew how Peeta felt about having  _anything_ on the cheese buns, was still horrified every time Asher asked for his to be served that way. In his opinion, they were perfect the way they were.

But this morning, Asher had other ideas.

“Yes,” he said firmly, his eyes - so much like hers it wasn’t even funny - turning to storm clouds when it looked like he wasn’t going to get his way. “Butta. BUTTA. BUTTTAAAAA!” His feet began to kick against the leg of the table, his little lips quivering in frustation.

Helplessly, Katniss looked over at Peeta, where he was trying hard to hid his grimace. “Please,” she mouthed.

He swallowed heavily, his lips pursed as though he was sucking on a lemon, before he finally nodded.“Fine,” he murmured, loud enough for her to hear. “But not a lot, ok?”

Katniss eagerly plucked up the knife, slid it through the small square of butter in the little dish in the centre of the table, and leant across, spreading it across the top of the cheese bun in front of Peeta.

Asher cheered.

Peeta ate it reluctantly.

Katniss promised herself she’d make it up to him later.


	28. Nervous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> allhailthehutch prompted me with "everlark: zip me", as well as moviefangal, who also specified Peeta needing to shut up. It ended up being a little more 'tie me' though, haha.

“There’s enough drinks, right? And ice to go with it?”

“Yes.”

“And canapés? The mini-cheese buns are out, right?”

“Yes.”

“And there’s enough chairs for everyone?”

“Yes.”

“And no-one’s been into the downstairs spare room, have they? I’ve got about 5 half-finished canvases in there and they’re not ready for anyone to see, although I suppose the one of the meadow would be alright if anyone was curious. But I really think I should show that one to Sae first, because she was the one who asked me to paint it and I’d feel bad if-“

"Peeta. For my sanity, shut  _up_.”

Peeta felt his cheeks colour, and he looked up, caught Haymitch’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror they stood in front of. His Mentor was wearing a suit that was older than Peeta, but it was clean, and it still fit him well enough after all these years. His hair was brushed, and his eyes were the clearest Peeta could remember them. He sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just-”

“Nervous,” Haymitch interrupted, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Peeta nodded, his fingers shaking as he tried to fix the knot on the tie around his neck. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to tie this tie. I don’t know if there’s enough food. I don’t know if now is the right time. I don’t know if we’re ready for this. I don’t know-”

Haymitch scoffed. “Really? You’re worrying about all that shit today?”

Peeta frowned, dropped his hands so they fell loosely at his sides. “Of course I am.”

“Then you’re crazy. All the things you kids have been through and this is what makes you start babbling like an idiot for the first time in your life?”

“It’s a big day!”

“And now you sound like Trinket.” Haymitch rolled his eyes and slouched from the room. “I’m going downstairs.”

“Fine,” Peeta muttered, shaking his head as he lifted his hands and lowered his gaze back to the tie. His father had shown him what to do, years ago, and then Portia, and then Effie. But now…now he had no clue what he was doing. And if he couldn’t even figure out how to tie a damned tie, then how could he even pretend to know how to be-

“Peeta.” Her voice was soft, quiet, and his gaze swivelled around to see her framed in the doorway.

“Katniss, what are you doing here?!” He exclaimed, covering his eyes with his palms. “Effie will kill you - you know she said we shouldn’t see each other beforehand!”

“Peeta, stop,” Katniss said firmly, and stepped towards him, pried his hands away in amusement. “Haymitch told me to come and calm you down, and make sure you finish getting dressed. Well, actually, what he said was a lot more colourful, but I don’t really feel like repeating exactly what he said. But either way, I’m sure Effie would understand. And if she doesn’t, who cares anyway?”

With his hands away from his eyes and nowhere else to look but at her standing directly in front of him, he hardly heard a word she said; all he could do was stare at her, drink her in. She was, to say the least, breathtaking. He hadn’t been sure what she’d wear today, hadn’t been sure if she’d wear a dress at all. But she was, one that was more cream than white; it flowed down her body like silk, floating around her legs until it hit her softly at mid calf. A belt the colour of sunset was wrapped around her waist, and her black hair tumbled down her back in waves, the smallest of braids weaved into the crown of her head. A small sprig of pale orange flowers was tucked over her right ear, and the pearl he’d given her so long ago rested at the hollow of her throat, suspended on a gossamer-thin silver chain.

His eyes landed back on her face and the first thing he registered was the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “What’s so funny?” he asked indignantly.

Katniss pursed her lips, trying to disguise her smile. “Haymitch said you wouldn’t shut up before. But now you’re not saying a word.”

Peeta glanced back down at his tie, chewed on his lower lip. “It’s just…you look beautiful,” he said softly, as he tried yet again to get it to tie right. He saw her hands reach out, curl around the strips of fabric.

“Let me,” she offered. He didn’t look up at her, just watched her nimble fingers expertly twist the two ends around until the black tie sat perfectly against his pale grey shirt. Then she rested her hands against his chest, and he had no choice but to look up at her. Her eyes were bright, earnest.

“Peeta, you need to stop worrying about everything. The day will go fine. Remember, we’re doing this because we love each other and we want to. We  _both_  want to, ok? That’s all that matters.”

He still knew, after all these years, how saying the word  _love_  was something Katniss didn’t take lightly-  that’s why, every time she said it, he knew she meant it. Knew it was real. “I know. You’re right. It’s just…I’m so ner-”

This time, she stopped his words with a kiss, one that was soft and warm, and hinted of more to come. His arms came around her waist, his hands sliding up her back until, wide-palmed, they pressed against her shoulder blades. He let her kiss him until every nerve was gone, until he could think of nothing but her, and how what they were about to do was  _absolutely right_.

Peeta pulled away slightly, rested his forehead against hers. “Let’s go get this toasting started.”


	29. All Her Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> amenityeverlark prompted me with 'Break me, Mockingjay style'.

The room is cold, the steel bench beneath my thighs icy. It seeps through the thin pants I wear, and I want to shiver, I want to shake.

But I don’t. Because I know showing weakness doesn’t get me anywhere.

They poke at me with needles, little syringes no bigger than my finger. I have a band around my wrist, and I hear the rhythm of my pulse through the machine that’s connected to it.  They shine lights into my eyes, type endless notes into small handheld devices, mutter under their breaths in voices so low I can barely hear them. I try, try so hard to catch the words they’re saying, but they know what they’re doing. They don’t want me to hear.

Just like  _they_  didn’t want me to either. Unless they wanted me to hear. And then the words were so loud they practically burned themselves into my brain.

Every so often, a word slips past, and it flashes in my head like a memory I don’t want to remember. Then, and only then, do I feel any sense of warmth. It builds up inside of me, spreading out from my chest, through to the tips or my toes and my fingers. It burns until it feels like my heart is about to burst…and then it disappears, dissipates until I’m almost sure that it never happened in the first place.

_Did it happen?_

He watches me through the glass, I know he does. I can’t see him, but his gaze sears into me, and I wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Does he feel guilty? Does he feel like this is his fault? Is he happy with the choice he made? That he picked her, and not me?

I don’t know.

I lift a hand to my eye, the skin still tender to the touch. I don’t know what it looks like, but I remember one from what feels like another life that it’s not hard to imagine.  _Yellow, purple, black, curling around my eye like a bruised flower._

I’m so focused on my eye, on what it would look like, that I don’t expect it when the door opens, slowly, hesitantly.

And then suddenly she’s there.

Her face is full of something I don’t recognise, something I can’t remember ever seeing before when she looked at me. Her eyes are shining, and there are tears streaming down her cheeks, and her arms are reaching for me.

And so I do what feels natural - I reach back, as the burning builds and overwhelms me. And I see nothing but red and black and and I feel like I’m on fire.

And I want her to be on fire too.

I want her gone.

_It’s all her fault._


	30. Everything's a Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashtagpeeta, aka c-r-roberts, prompted with 'Everlark: Fight me'.

Katniss angrily dropped her portfolio on her desk, the papers inside spilling out onto the floor and covering the pale grey carpet. Not that she cared. They could go straight in the bin, for all the good they would do for her.

He’d gotten to lead the project.  _Again._

She knew the oral presentation was her weakest point, while it was his strongest. His supporting artwork had always had the edge over hers, though at least now she finally had Finnick on her project team, and he had an amazing eye for detail. But the written word was something she could do, and do well, and her proposal outline in and of itself was always far superior to his. But it never seemed to get her over the line.

She just couldn’t compete with him. 

Slumping down in her chair, she dropped her head onto the desk and sighed. It was days like these that she missed her old company, where she didn’t have to compete with her own co-workers for the opportunity to lead a client project. But Plutarch Heavensbee and Effie Trinket, the two company directors, loved nothing more than making everything a game. And she just wasn’t sure she wanted to play anymore.

“Nice presentation, Everdeen.”

She lifted her head, rested her elbow on the desk; she dropped her chin into her upturned palm. “Don’t be so condescending,  _Mellark_ ,” she snapped, glaring at him across the room.  _Him._ Peeta Mellark. Effie Trinket’s golden child, and a wunderkind in the industry. Her competition every damn time.

He grinned - two rows of bright white teeth - and scrubbed a hand casually through his rumpled blond waves, leaning against the door frame as he did so.

“Hey, I’m just trying to give you a compliment, but if you don’t want to take it…”

“The only thing I want to take is that project,” she retorted sharply, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest. “Dammit, you  _know_  how much I wanted it.”

“So did I,” he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. “I know. But you got the last big one. And the one before that. Why don’t you stop being so damned greedy?”

Peeta stepped inside, moved over to her desk and dropped casually into the client chair across from her. His unflappability was so annoying. “I’m just doing my job, Katniss.”

“And so am I!” Her voice lifted in frustration, and she had to take a deep breath to control it. “I just don’t know what I have to do to get a proposal across the line here. Sometimes I wonder why they even bothered to hire me.”

He shrugged, lifted his left foot so it was resting on his right knee. “You’re good at your job, that’s why. But maybe you need to rethink how you do things.”

“Oh really? Like how?” Katniss demanded sarcastically, and her hands curled into fists under her forearms. _She hated the fact that everything about him put her on edge._

He traced his hand along the arm of the chair. “I think we’d make a pretty good team. We don’t have to be in different project groups, you know.”

Katniss screwed her nose up. “They hired me to be your equal, not your lackey.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. “I’m not asking you to be my lackey, Katniss. I’m saying that maybe we should work together one time. Maybe co-lead a project instead of being at each other’s throats all the time. Be a team.”

“We’d never be able to work with each other,” Katniss said dismissively.  “That’s the worst idea I think you’ve ever had.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“I think I’m right.”

He laughed this time, and it just annoyed her even more.  He rose from the seat, tugged down the rolled up sleeves of his shirt that had ridden up slightly. “Well, just keep it in mind Katniss. You know where to find me if you change your mind.” He tipped his head towards her, then walked from her office without a backwards glance.

She watched him go, and didn’t know what she hated more. His attitude, or the perfect fit of his pants.

_Dammit._


	31. The Meadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> moviefangal asked: "Haunt Me-Katniss's Dad, or any member of Peeta's family"

I push the sleeves of my jacket up past my elbows, settle myself on the sturdiest tree branch I can find, though sturdiness doesn’t really matter for me. It’s more habit than anything, one I still haven’t broken after all these years.

From here, I can see the meadow clearly, can see the long grass swaying in the breeze, the burst of colour here and there from the wildflowers that have grown, unexpectedly and miraculously.

It’s not the meadow I remember, not the one from my childhood. And though I know there are memories hidden deep underground, in the depths of the earth, there’s a serenity here that I can’t recall feeling before.

And I’m glad.

My heart hitches as I see the first hint of life fly through the grass, a whirlwind of dark hair and light blue fabric. She laughs, and it dances across the wind towards me, so full of life I almost feel as though if I reached my hand out, I could catch it.

The boy follows close behind, short stubby legs plowing through behind her, trying valiantly - but failing - to catch up. His voice is full of unintelligible words, the excited babble of a child without a care in the world.

It makes me happy to know that he doesn’t. That he won’t have to worry about where his next meal is coming from, or know that his name is on a dozen pieces of paper in a clear, round ball.

The girl grabs his hands, spins them in a dizzying circle until they tumble to the ground in a fit of giggles. It brings a smile to my face, remembering seeing my own girls doing that, so long ago now.

My girls.

My oldest moves into my sight, her ebony hair in the familiar braid Alice would twist into place every day. She still wears my jacket after all these years, and my fingers brush against the cuff of the identical one I wear, a smile creeping up on my face.

I like seeing her happy, like the way that her fingers twine with the those of the blond haired son of the baker. He limps slightly, but I know it’s gotten better for him over the years. He’s gotten used to the prosthetic, and I know it warms his heart each time the little girl kisses it to make it feel better on the days it does hurt.

Katniss lowers herself to the grass, and the boy follows, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Her head dips slightly, to rest in the curve of his neck, and they smile at the two children they brought into the world.

A world made much better by what the two of them did.

Even now, after all these years of not being with her, my pride hasn’t waned. She’s done more with her life than I ever could have hoped.

And she’s happy. She loves. And that’s all I ever wanted for her.

I lower myself from the branch, and make my way back into the woods.

I leave no trace behind.


	32. Remember Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dragonprincess76 asked: "Remember Me - Everlark."

She raised the flute to her lips, sipped at the sparkling gold liquid it contained. Champagne wasn’t normally her first choice of drink, but tonight, she felt like she needed it. Anything, really, to calm the nerves in her belly and the overwhelming need to get the hell out of here.

There was nothing she hated more than awards dinners, especially when she was the honoree.

She’d never set out, when she began her degree in environmental studies, to become some industry spokesperson, or to win awards. She’d never set out to write papers that would get published in magazines, and she’d most certainly never expected to get interviewed by people like Caesar Flickerman on late night TV or Claudius Templesmith on breakfast radio. And somehow, despite the fact that she was blunt and snarky and often made it clear that she hated public speaking, they still asked for her. Every time.

“You ready, Katniss?” Madge - her long time best friend, and date for the night - squeezed her free hand encouragingly.

“Not really,” Katniss admitted, peering through the slim gap in the doors, out into the dining hall where over 200 people sat at tables covered in crystal and gold and vases blooming with white roses. “You know I hate these things.” 

“Well, you can’t hide out in the lobby forever you know,” Madge said wryly. “Just get in there, say thanks, and then we can get out of here and go to In and Out or something. I know you haven’t eaten anything they’ve served.”

“You know I can’t eat before I do anything like this.”

“Either way, they’ll be wondering why their Guest of Honour has spent half their night away from their designated table.”

Katniss tossed back the rest of the drink, handed the glass to Madge and smoothed down the fabric of her simple black dress. “Eh, whatever. In and Out sounds like a plan. Wish me luck.”

“Just go,” Madge grinned, gave her a slight nudge on the shoulder to push her through the doors at the exact moment the compare - a woman with perfectly coiffed strawberry blonde hair and a hot pink dress that glittered obnoxiously - announced her.

_Dammit, she hated these things._

She wound her way around the tables, slowly counting in her head every step she took as a way to calm the nerves that the champagne had failed to. She took the stairs to the stage carefully, shook Effie Trinket’s hand while accepting the glass statuary that was held out to her, then looked up at the crowd in front of her.

She swallowed heavily.

Normally, the lights would obscure her view, block out everyone sitting in front of her so that she couldn’t see the eager faces and enthusiastic smiles. But tonight, she could see the first row of tables, and the thought that she could look down at any moment and lock eyes with one of them terrified her.

So, of course, it was the first thing she did.

His eyes were blue, a bright blue reminiscent of the Pacific. His smile was highlighted by two rows of perfect teeth, and the fact that one end turned up higher at the end did nothing but make it all the more appealing. A small dimple popped in his left cheek, and his rumpled blond hair curled just slightly too long over the collar of the perfectly tailored dark grey suit he wore.

And suddenly, she was 16 years old, back at Panem High, watching a wrestling tournament and trying to deny the fact that she had a crush on the most popular guy in school.

_Holy shit. It was Peeta Mellark._

Somehow, she got through her speech - thankfully, it was short, and she’d kept the long, scientific terms to a minimum - avoiding his gaze at every opportunity. She looked at everywhere but him - at her notes, at the carpet, at the guy at the table next to Peeta’s who was trying - and failing - to discreetly slide his hand up the skirt of his date beside him. And when she finally murmured her thanks and stumbled off the stage to a round of applause, she practically ran for the lobby again.

“Katniss?”

His voice stopped her in her tracks, and with a deep breath, she slowly turned around. He looked even better up close - age had done him wonders, and she marvelled at the fact that, at 29, he possibly looked even better now than what he did during school.

“Y-yes? Can I, uh, help you?” she stammered, and she watched as the light of his eyes dimmed a little. He held out a hand, waited for her to reach hers out so he could clasp it. It was warm, sturdy, strong, and hers fit like a glove inside it.

“I’m, uh, Peeta-”

“Mellark, I know,” she rushed out, before inwardly cursing herself.

His grin grew, slowly, until it looked like his whole face was smiling with it. “Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure you’d remember me from school.”

“Of course I do. You were the most, uh, popular guy there.” She slid her hand out of his grasp, wiped the sweatiness she knew had popped on her palm on the thigh of her dress. “I’m surprised you remember me.”

He slid his hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels. “Oh, I definitely remember you. Katniss Everdeen isn’t a name or face that’s hard to forget.”

She scoffed. “You’re kidding me, right?”

He laughed. “Definitely not kidding. It’s nice to see you, Katniss.”

She looked down at the floor, then glanced back up at him again.  _What the hell._ “It’s nice to see you too, Peeta.”

 


	33. Not the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Can you do a drabble where Peeta wasn't hijacked when him and Katniss were reunited?"

He’s asleep when I enter, a thin, pale sheet drawn up to just under his chin. Even through the material I can see the outline of his body, and the broad shoulders, the muscular arms, the strong chest I’d become used to, that had been my comfort for more nights than I could remember, are gone. In their place are limbs weak and thin from malnutrition and other things I don’t even want to think about.

Haymitch had warned me of this.

He’d told me he may not be the same, that I might not recognise the man in front of me. That I needed to take things easy, to understand it might take time. I’d told him I didn’t care.

I just wanted Peeta back.

When I’d run into the medical ward, Johanna had still been the Johanna I remembered, fire in her eyes as she spewed angrily at the nurse trying to treat the infected sores that covered her bald head.

Annie…well, I’d never seen her before, not in person. But she’d been wrapped around Finnick like she was never going to let go, and his grip had been just as tight as he’d fused his mouth to hers desperately. I’d figured that’s how they’d always been, and how they always would be.

_Peeta will be Peeta,_  I’d told myself like a mantra, while I practically stumbled over my own feet to get to his room.  _Because I couldn’t afford to think of anything else._

But he isn’t. Not exactly.

I sit and trace my fingers gently across a bruise blooming on his forehead, the shades of purple fighting viciously with the aging yellow. He doesn’t shift, doesn’t budge, and I take the opportunity to slide my hand into the strands of hair that curl over his ear. Gone is the perfect blond wave he’d sported in his interviews with Caesar - in its place is a sweaty, matted mass that I’ve never been more overjoyed to run my fingers through.

I have him back, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel  _whole_.

I don’t know if it’s minutes or hours later, but I know the moment the drugs they administered to him on the hovercraft home start to wear off. His frail body starts to jerk, his eyes flickering madly behind thin, almost translucent eyelids. I begin to hush him softly, almost like I used to to Prim when she was younger, and slide my free hand underneath the sheet, grasping his ice-cold hand and locking our fingers together as tightly as I’ll allow myself to. Then his eyes flicker open.

And they fixate on me.

They’re not how I remember them. They’re pale, almost lifeless, as though Snow has sucked all the colour out of them. They’re wide - in shock, in fear, in confusion, I don’t know. But the lashes are still tangled together, are still so blond and impossibly long they almost seem unreal.

That comforts me.

“Katniss?”

His voice is barely a murmur, whispered through a throat that sounds like its made of sandpaper. I nod, slowly rise to my feet from the chair by his bedside so I can look down at him. My braid slips over my shoulder, and I watch as his gaze slides towards the curled end that rests on the bedsheet before returning to my face.

“I’m here. Peeta, it’s me,” I reply quietly. “You’re…you’re safe now.”

“Safe? Where am I?” Confusion is beginning to set in, I can see it. He knows he’s not in Twelve - the Merchant Infirmary looks nothing like the Medical Facility in Thirteen - and I can feel the tension in his hand as his fingers tighten around mine anxiously.

“You’re safe,” is all I repeat. “Far away from the Capitol. They can’t get you here. Ever.”

It takes a moment, but I see the relief slowly begin to drift across his face. His fingers start to loosen around mine, but instead of letting go, the pads of his fingertips drift against the back of my hand. Gently, softly. A familiar touch that I’d gone for so long without.

I close my eyes, willing the tears away that begin to well.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Peeta whispers. “They told me you were dead. That…that you left me in the Arena to die, and then you died anyway.”

I shake my head, then open my eyes, tears be damned. I don’t care that they’re sliding down my cheeks. “No, I didn’t know what was happening. I was never dead. And I never would have left you behind. If I’d known what was happening, I never would. I never would have gone with Johanna, and I would have stayed with you and…” I trail off as he slowly lifts his other arm up from underneath the sheet, reaching up until his palm cups my cheek.

“Katniss, don’t cry,” he tells me.

“I can’t help it,” I murmur, and I know if I don’t tell him now, I could choke on the words for weeks. “I just…I was so afraid I’d never get to tell you.”

I watch as Peeta swallows heavily. “Tell me what?”

I turn my face so I can press my lips to his palm. “That…that I love you.”

He smiles then, one that slowly creeps across his face. It’s not the same smile I remember from before, not wide and charming and unaffected by pain.

But it’s a smile I know I’ll never forget, as he repeats the words back to me.


	34. Before 8am

Katniss stood over him, a scowl on her face and a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her hand. She studied the way his back shifted with each breath he took, the muscles rippling under skin that had, thanks to summer, become a warm golden colour. And it was pretty much all over too - the black boxer briefs he’d obviously stripped down to the night before left little to the imagination.

She was glad he was at least lying on his stomach. The last thing she needed right now was Peeta Mellark’s barely concealed junk staring her in the face.

“Madge!” she yelled, smiling with pleasure at the groan that emanated from him at the noise. “Your shithead cousin is passed out on our sofa again!”

Looking over, she saw her housemate Madge stumble out of her bedroom, her blonde hair a tangled birds nest, her eyes rimmed black to the point Katniss wasn’t sure Madge even had eyes anymore. “Katniss, you gotta be so loud?” Madge complained, heading straight for the coffee pot. “Not everyone was in bed at 10pm last night like you were.”

“Well sorry I didn’t feel like doing shots at Crays til 3am,” Katniss retorted. She sipped at her coffee, glared back down at Peeta. She hated when Madge’s cousin was in town - he did nothing but set her teeth on edge with his perfect smile and his happy go lucky attitude and the way absolutely everybody loved him to bits.

_(Even her sister, which was probably what pissed her off the most)._

The first few times Peeta had visited Katniss and Madge at their apartment in downtown Panem, he’d made an effort to try and get to know Katniss, to try and get her to talk to him, until it was made perfectly clear that she had no interest in giving him any time of day. After then, he’d given her a wide berth, and most of the times they spoke, it was either in grunts or insults.

It was the best arrangement Katniss could think of.

But some visits were undoubtedly worse than others. Like this one - he’d arrived the day before full of excitement after getting a promotion at work and wanting to do nothing but have celebratory drinks. She’d gone out to dinner with them - reluctantly, at Madge’s orders - but had skipped out on the drinks themselves. If there was one thing she no longer did, it was celebratory drinks. She’d learned her lesson in college, after about a million completed finals. Plus the less time she spent with him, the better.

Madge slunk into the living room, dropped onto the end of the sofa, jostling Peeta. Another groan emitted from him, and Madge poked at his back until he reluctantly lifted his head.

“What?” He muttered, and the look on his face gave Katniss a perverse sense of satisfaction. Not even Mr Popular could look good all the time, she thought happily as she took in the bloodshot eyes and blond hair that stood every which way.

“Have a good night last night?” She asked, not even caring that she sounded bitchy.

He shrugged, then grinned, and  _damn_  if the asshole could still smile like he was in a Colgate commercial even when he was hungover. “I think I did.”

Madge laughed. “You certainly liked that blonde who was talking to you half the night.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, dropped into the armchair across from them. “Why am I not surprised,  _Mister_ Popularity.” Then her eyes widened, horrified. “You didn’t bring a random up here, did you?” She hissed, glancing wildly around the apartment as though a stranger would pop up at any moment, dressed in nothing but Peeta’s shirt.

Peeta shifted himself so that he was resting on his side, laughing before his head dropped to the arm of the chair.  “Come on, Katniss, that hasn’t happened since my second visit.”

“I know.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And I still haven’t forgiven you for that girl walking in on me while I was  _peeing_ , for God’s sake.”

Madge snorted, then protested when Peeta nipped the mug from her hands, drinking deeply. “You gonna drink all of that, Mellark?” Madge demanded. He nodded absently, and with a huff, she yanked herself off the sofa, heading back towards the kitchen, and muttering about him getting his own damn coffee. With Madge gone, Peeta propped himself up higher.

“You know I promised I’d never do that again, Katniss. I was 22 and drunk.”

“Promises don’t mean it couldn’t happen again,” she snapped.

“Well it didn’t and it wouldn’t have,” he replied just as sharply.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And how’s that?”

“Well for starters,” he began, then sat up completely, as though he was getting ready to launch into a long, lengthy speech. Katniss screwed her nose up; even higher up on her list of Things Not to Do before 8am than ‘Talking to Peeta Mellark for extended periods of time’ was ‘Talking to Peeta Mellark for extended periods of time in his underwear’.  “You know that that girl was just a friend from college and nothing happened; she just crashed here. So really, I was being  _super responsible_ even while intoxicated because I made sure she wasn’t stumbling home alone drunk at 2am.”

“Yeah, yeah I know, it was all innocent and Peeta Mellark being good, I’ve heard it all before. But  _peeing_.” It still mortified her 5 years later, being stormed in on mid-stream by a complete and utter stranger.

Peeta barrelled on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Plus I definitely don’t do one night stands. And the blonde girl last night really wasn’t my type anyway so I never even half considered seeing her again.”

“Blonde and beautiful isn’t your type?” Katniss couldn’t help it - the roll of her eyes started before she could stop it.

“I’ve got nothing against beauty. But it’s more the blonde factor. It just doesn’t do it for me.” He drained the last of the coffee and stood, stretched in a way that made every part of his body demand her attention.

So she refused to.

“Well that’s nice and all,” she replied into her coffee cup. “But I don’t really care what your type is.”

“You should,” he said, then moved towards her, bracing her in by placing a hand on each of the arms of the chair. “Because prickly brunettes are right up my alley.”

He grinned then, that stupid grin that she hated, before turning and walking into the bathroom.

It took her about two minutes to realise he’d meant her. And she dropped the empty coffee mug on the floor.

 


	35. Another Hospital Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was for whateverdeen, who wanted hospital!everlark.

She leant against the doorframe, folded her arms across her chest and sighed. Katniss couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a moment to just  _stop_ for longer than 5 minutes. Maybe 18 hours ago? Maybe 24? She couldn’t even remember, and she felt her eyes begin to involuntarily flutter shut.

Things at Panem General over the weekend had been crazy to the point of insanity.

The new interns were incompetent, the Chief of Staff had bitched at everyone who would listen about the new policies the hospital board had put in place, and one of her patients was so demanding, Katniss wondered whether the woman actually thought she was staying in a 5 star hotel.

She just wanted to go home and sleep for a year. Her body was drained and she was like dead weight on her feet. Plus she was craving cheese fries like nobody’s business. But she couldn’t go home. Not yet.

Lifting her head slightly, she opened her eyes and watched as he moved competently and confidently around the room in front of her. She admired the way the green scrubs fit over his shoulders and his ass - even dead tired, Katniss couldn’t help but think how hot he looked - and at the way he stopped by his latest patient and smiled at them as though they were the most important person in the room.

To Peeta, they probably were. In his mind,  _all_ of his patients were.

It had taken her a long time to come to terms with the feelings she had for Peeta Mellark. He  _completely_ wasn’t her type - friendly and outgoing and charming and one of those people who just damn well got along with everyone. She’d found out he painted portraits and landscapes in what little spare time he had, and was the person responsible for baking the birthday cake for virtually everyone on staff - someone as friendly and amazing as that practically made her break out in hives. Plus, there’d been the fact he was a nurse, a co-worker. An employee, just like her.

She’d known it was stupid, holding that against him. But she just didn’t want to be seen as one of  _those_ Doctors, like Dr Odair and Dr Mason and Dr Anderson. She didn’t want to be seen as just another person in a long line of hospital romances.

So she’d flat out determined he wasn’t for her, even though his smile had made her stomach quiver, and the sight of his blonde head wandering through the halls always made her feel a little bit brighter. Nothing would happen between them.  _Ever._

Except in the last two years - and against her better judgement - he’d broken down her defences. Sitting with her in the break room when they both managed to get a second to breath at the same time, staying late after his shift had finished to help her with a patient - even though it wasn’t even his area - and holding her hand when a young girl who’d reminded her so much of her own sister had died in the middle of the night.

Two weeks after that night, he’d kissed her, and she hadn’t stopped him. And she hadn’t stopped him since.

Reaching up and wrapping her fingers around the stethoscope that hung around her neck, Katniss straightened and cleared her throat. She watched as his gaze swung over to her, the smile creeping across his face just at the sight of her. He crossed the room silently, then followed her out of the room into the hallway.

“Hey,” he said softly, his hands reaching out to clasp her free one. “I thought you would have gone home already.”

“I was going to,” Katniss admitted. “But I changed my mind. Figured I’d come by and wait for you.”

“Well…you’re lucky in that my shift ended approximately 30 seconds ago,” he grinned.

“Thank god,” she sighed gratefully. “Because I really need to sleep.” They began to move down the hall towards the change rooms, and she casually threw a glance back to the direction of the ward. “Busy day?”

“Six newbies, with one set of twins,” Peeta said proudly, his chest puffing out as if he’d given birth himself, “And all of them as healthy as horses.”

Katniss smiled, let him draw her into his side and press the smallest of kisses to her forehead. “I love how excited you still get about the babies.”

“Babies  _are_  exciting,” Peeta told her. “And when we have a good day with no complications, and no one has named their kid something shitty that will get them teased about in school in ten years time, I’m especially happy.”

“Well then, I’m glad they make you happy,” she replied, and followed him into the small room lined with silvery-grey lockers. “I’m…just exhausted. That patient I was telling you about - Effie Trinket? - is just about to drive me up the wall. And Haymitch is still bitching about those new changes.”

He grimaced. “Sorry on all accounts. But let’s forget about all that. We now both have two days off to do nothing but sleep,” Peeta said, then waggled his eyebrows. “And other stuff, of course. But I can’t wait just to have time with  _you_. No patients, no rules, no grumpy Chief of Staff breathing down our neck. Just us.”

Katniss nodded, then opened her mouth. And closed it again. There was no rush, she realised, even though she’d been jumpy about it all day, even though it had been playing on her mind since the moment she’d found out.

She figured she could just tell him their own baby news when they got home.

 


	36. One Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> montannalittle asked for "Everlark teenage pregnancy drabble."

She was cold, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She felt like she was made of ice, like she was frozen in one spot and would never, ever be able to move.

_Pregnant._

Katniss Everdeen looked down at the stick in her hand again, as though taking her eyes away from it for a moment would have changed the result.

Nope. Still the same.

_Dammit._

Pregnancy and children weren’t in her life plan. Had  _never_  really been in her life plan, for as long as she could remember. All she’d ever wanted to do was complete her degree, graduate, and get a good enough job that she could help support her sister Prim through med school. Not support a kid through elementary school.  And high school. And college.

Shit.

_Shit, shit, shit._

“Daaaaaaamn. So, it’s positive?” Her roommate, Johanna, plopped down beside Katniss on her bed, and plucked the test from her hand, inspected it with narrowed eyes.

“That’s what the instructions tell me,” she replied dully.  _How could this have happened to her?_

Johanna grimaced. “Dude. You know what protection is, right?”

Katniss glared at her friend. “Yes!” She snapped, folding her arms over her stomach. “And I’m on it,  _and_ we used a condom too. You know this is something I never want, so of course we did. We covered our bases!” She knew her voice was bordering on shrill, but she couldn’t help it. She’d never wanted this.

Johanna tossed the test on the desk top beside the bed and ran a hand through her shoulder length dark hair before leaning back on her forearms. “Yeah, okay okay. Don’t get pissy at me because some guy successfully nutted on all levels.”

Katniss closed her eyes as her stomach pitched. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “You’re disgusting and really not helping.”

“Just tryin’ to lighten the mood,” Johanna shrugged. “Anyway, what are you gonna do? And more importantly - whose is it? Coz last time I checked you weren’t even dating, let alone banging anyone.”

Katniss sighed, her mind flashing back to that one night a month earlier. To broad shoulders rising above her in the dark, hands brushing along her thighs, sweat slicked skin sliding against skin, a mouth on her breasts, him moving inside her, of being brought to a peak she’d never quite reached before. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Damn straight it matters, I-” Johanna cut herself off as a sharp rap sounded on the door to their room, and she swung her gaze towards it. “Piss off! No visitors!”

It opened slowly anyway, and a head of blond waves peered around the corner. “Uh, it’s just me?”

Johanna shook her head. “Normally, Peetie-Pie, I’d be keen as shit to see my roommate’s bestie. But now isn’t a good time. Come back later.”

Katniss tried to swallow the lump that had invaded her throat the minute the door opened, as she watched the brightness in Peeta Mellark’s blue eyes dim at Jo’s instructions. He’d been her best friend for 9 years; all through school, through her first boyfriend, his first girlfriend, their first breakups, their first hangovers, her father’s death. When they’d both gotten accepted into Panem U, they’d been thrilled they were going to be able to go to college together. Through good things and bad, Peeta had always been by her side - now, she was just worried how he’d react to her news.

“No, Jo, it’s okay,” she finally muttered. “He can come in.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Katniss assured her. “And don’t you have a study date with Finnick and Annie anyway?”

Johanna glanced up at the clock on the wall and groaned. “Ugh, you’re right. Okay, I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to leave just because I’m here,” Peeta said with a grin, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stepped inside the room.

“No, no, Katniss is right. Stupid study dates,” Johanna complained, pushing up off the bed and tossing her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later.“ The minute Johanna stalked out and slammed the door behind her, Katniss regretted her leaving. Her security blanket was gone.

"Hey, are you alright?” Peeta asked as he sat beside her, extracting one of her hands from its folded position and threading his fingers through hers. She looked down at their hands, at the familiar linking of olive and creamy white. “You look really pale.”

“I’m fine,” Katniss murmured.  _No I’m not._

“Are you sure?”

She lifted her gaze to look at him properly then, at the concern in his eyes, the worry on his face. And wondered how on earth she was going to tell him.

Her best friend.

The father of her unplanned baby.


	37. In From The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "‘we got caught by this awful storm and now we’re waiting for it to calm under the roof of a café, want to go inside and have a coffee in the meantime?’ au"

The sky was dark and heavy with clouds pregnant with rain; thunder rumbled overhead in an ominous warning and a crack of lightning echoed in the distance. Katniss Everdeen took a quick glance skyward, inwardly crossed her fingers and hoped she’d be able to make it home before the storm that had threatened all afternoon finally hit.

Half a second later, the clouds burst open and dumped a weeks worth of rain onto downtown Panem. And what felt like directly onto her, soaking her from head to toe.

Katniss began to stumble down the sidewalk, her flats slipping on the wet pavement, wiping at her face as water dripped into her eyes. Around her, some people scrambled for the cover of the subway, others ran down the street with handbags or opened newspapers held over their heads. But as of this moment, Katniss’ eyes were trained solely on the black and white striped awning that loomed at the far end of the street. If she could just make it there, and take shelter until the worst of it passed, she’d be happy. Because the last thing she needed right now was to slip and break her leg or something - and knowing her luck at the moment, that’s exactly what would happen.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached cover, and welcomed the reprieve from the pounding rain. She shook her head - almost like her sister Prim’s mangy cat Buttercup did when it got caught in the rain -  her black braid creating a long, wet trail down the back of her dark green blouse. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed the café the awning belonged to was empty and dark, and spying the opening hours, realised it had already closed for the day. She grimaced in disappointment - the faint promise of a hot chocolate to warm her from the rain disappeared, and she lowered herself to the stoop, prepared to wait out the storm.

It wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined her first day at her new job to end.

Absently, Katniss reached into the oversized purse she’d borrowed from her friend, Madge, and pulled out her iPhone, stuck the attached headphones into her ears; Mumford and Sons immediately came to life. The steady stream of rain in front of her, combined with the sound of the music in her ears slowly relaxed her - her shoulders slumped comfortably, and she leant against the door, her body starting to lose the tension that had kept her feeling on edge all day.

And then the door was yanked out from behind her, and she found herself flat on her back, staring up into a face full of friendly blue eyes, white teeth, a smattering of freckles and topped with a halo of blond waves.

“Shit!” she hissed, flaily awkwardly as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. She yanked the headphones from her ears, practically bashed at her phone until the music abruptly shut off. “What the hell did you do that for?” She snapped.

The blue eyes above her looked down in disappointment. “I knocked on the window and the door before I opened it, but you didn’t say anything. I tried to open it as carefully as possible, but I didn’t expect you to fall back that way - I’m sorry.”

“Well I was listening to music, and that rain is pretty damn loud too. Of course I wasn’t going to hear you,” she bit out. This time Katniss pushed herself to her feet so she was standing in front of the stranger and folded her arms across her chest.

He lifted his hands in supplication. “I really am sorry. I was just doing a final check of the floor when I noticed you out there. I thought I might see if you wanted to come inside, wait the storm out in a place that’s warm and dry.”

Katniss eyed him warily. “You were going to ask a complete stranger to come inside your  _closed_  café to wait out a storm?”

He nodded. “I’d like to think that if it was me out there, someone would do the same for me. Anyway,” he stuck his hand out, and she reached out and took it without thinking. His palm was warm and smooth and the touch alone sent an odd shiver up her arm. “My name’s Peeta, and this is my café. And now that I’m not a stranger to you, would you like to come in, have a coffee or something to warm up? That rain is  _icy_  cold.”

Katniss glanced over her shoulder at the rain that looked like it had no intention of letting up, then back at this Peeta guy, as he let go of her hand and crossed the room to flick a light switch. Dim lights blinked on just behind the counter, setting a warm, subtle glow through the room.

“Uh…I guess so,” Katniss said, bending to retrieve her bag from the sidewalk before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “You don’t mind, though? It looks like you were all closed up, and ready to leave.”

“I was,” Peeta nodded, and shrugged. “But I rode to work this morning, and I really don’t want to ride out in this weather if I don’t have to. My brothers would tell me to suck it up or whatever, but the last thing I need to have is another accident. So I was just going to wait it out - and now I’ve at least got some company.” He pushed the sleeves up on the light grey Henley he wore, stepped up to the barista grade coffee machine. “What can I get you?”

“Um…” Katniss tore her gaze from his freshly revealed forearms -  _they were really, really nice forearms,_ she thought absently - up to his face. Which was, she admitted, really, really nice too. Better than nice.

Pretty fucking gorgeous if she was being totally honest. And here she was looking like a drowned rat.

“Is a hot chocolate okay? If I have coffee at this time of day, it’ll just wire me up and I won’t get to sleep tonight.”

“Hot chocolate it is,” Peeta agreed. “And that sounds good enough that I might have one too.  Please, take a seat - how about that booth over there at the side, just beside the front window?”

Katniss nodded, wound her way through the packed up tables and chairs to the first of three booths that lined the side wall. Like the awning, the seats were black and white striped, and the containers on the table - salt, pepper, and little sugar containers - were a muted orange. Whoever had styled this café had a very specific idea in mind when they’d fitted it out, she thought. It was eye-catching, friendly and sophisticated all rolled into one.

They were both silent as he prepared their drinks, and Katniss looked down in wonder when he finally slid a mug almost as big as her head in front of her. Lashings of whipped cream, flecks of chocolate and what smelt like a dash of cinnamon topped off her drink.

“This…is not what I expected,” she told him flatly as he lowered himself into the booth across from her. He laughed, and she noted that the edged of his eyes crinkled as he did so, and one corner of his mouth turned up slightly more than the other.

“Well, this is how we serve our hot chocolates at D-Twelve.”

“D-Twelve?” She ran a finger around the edge of the mug, taking with it a swipe of cream that she immediately lifted to her lips.

She watched as his eyes clouded with confusion. “That’s the name of the café. You’ve not been here before?”

Katniss shook her head. “I used to work in the other direction, so I’ve never really had to come this way before. But I started a new job today, and well…here I am.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Well…” he trailed off, wrapped his hands around the mug in front of him. “Don’t take this in a stalkery way or anything, but you kind of look familiar.”

“Really?” Katniss asked, and even she could hear the obvious dubiousness in her tone.

“Yeah. Like maybe you’d come in here before. Maybe we’ve just shopped at the same Walgreens or something though, or…”

Katniss raised her mug to her lips, sipped at the hot drink; she couldn’t help the moan that immediately fell from her lips.

_It was like liquid gold._

She shook her head emphatically. “Nuh-huh, trust me. If I’d known about this place before, I would have been in here every day for this.  _This_  is amazing. Of course, I’d also have to spend every day at the gym for the rest of my life to make up for it-”

“That’s it!” She watched as Peeta practically bounced in his seat, as he slapped his hand on the table. “Capitol Gym, the one on the corner of First and 74th! You use the elliptical every time.”

Katniss narrowed her eyes, and almost couldn’t help herself as she did a quick cursory sweep across his face, over his shoulders and down his chest, trying to place him. Then, as her eyes landed on his arms again, it hit her.

Of course he had nice arms. She admired them every Tuesday and Thursday, when he mixed it up between the stationary bike and the rowing machine.

_Oh no._

This was the guy she’d told Madge about after one too many drinks at Hob. The guy she’d reluctantly admitted to absently thinking about  - a lot - every time she left the gym. She’d just never been close enough to see the brilliance of his eyes, or the quirkiness of his grin, or the elegance of his hands; nor had realised that, when not sweaty, his hair was actually blond and not a light brown.

“You’re right,” she admitted faintly, trying to ignore the strange and suddenly rapid beat of her heart. “I started going there about 6 months ago. I don’t normally like the gym, but I don’t get to go hiking as much as I used to anymore, so…I do what I have to do.”

“Well…” he smiled at her, with a hint of shyness and sweetness to the grin that was unexpected. “If you ever need a gym partner, let me know.”

Katniss glanced down at her mug, then back at him, felt the words falling from her lips before she could even stop them. “Like I said, if I keep coming here for hot chocolate, I’ll probably have to spend more time at the gym. So I, uh, might take you up on that.” Her smile was small and reserved, but it said just as much as his own had said to her.

Neither noticed when the rain stopped.


	38. Ice Cream Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "you both grab for the last pint of ice cream at the supermarket and end up arguing over it au"  
> The following doesn't exactly match, but its what came to mind...

I can hear her heavy footsteps as she moves around the kitchen - a thump and a stamp and a kick against the smooth surface of a cabinet - and that’s my first indication that she might be angry. The sounds echoing down the hall are definitely out of place; usually her footsteps are so stealthy and quiet that I’m not even aware she’s in a room until she announces herself. So although I don’t know for sure just yet, after 5 years of friendship - the last 2 of those as housemates - I can guess with almost absolute certainty that something has pissed off Katniss Everdeen.

I just hope it isn’t me.

Gale’s almost comatose form is stretched out on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, hogging the fan that we’ve set up in the living room. Only three weeks in, and summer has been hot and humid and virtually unbearable - even more so since our AC up and died two days ago. We’d already discussed the pros and cons of going outside earlier this afternoon, thinking that maybe it was at least a degree or two cooler out there, but the heat emanating from the footpath alone had sent us scampering back inside within a matter of minutes.

Which is why we’re now both flat on our backs on the wooden floor, fan blasting, our shirts stripped off to act as sweat towels and the wintery, childhood memory goodness of  _The Mighty Ducks_  playing on the TV. The coffee table, covered with the remnants of our afternoon snacking, sits between us.

Suddenly I hear her footsteps stomping down the hallway, and I turn my head in time to see Katniss storm into view. Her long black braid is a frizzy mess over her shoulder, her cheeks are flushed, and her grey eyes are furious as she plants her hands on her khaki-clad hips.

“Which one of you assholes took my last tub of Ben and Jerry’s?” she demands hotly.

Gale doesn’t take his eyes off the TV. “Mellark.”

_Shit._

“Traitor,” I hiss at him, before I glance back at Katniss. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was yours,” I tell her apologetically. “I thought it was Gale’s -  _and he didn’t correct me when I asked._ ” I glare at him again, but his focus is solely on the movie in front of him.

Sometimes living with childhood best friends who love nothing more than getting a rise of each other is a real pain in the ass.

Katniss shakes her head in frustration. “Look, I’m all for sharing our food or whatever, but dammit, it’s hot as Hades, and I just wanted some freaking ice cream after work.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologise again. “I’ll go get you a replacement if you want.”

She scowls, and crosses the room to slump on the sofa behind us, folding her arms across her chest. She has a smear of dirt on her chin, a scrape along her forearm and dark smudges under her eyes - I know her day would have been long, physically demanding and exhausting. “Forget about it,” she mutters. “I’ll live.”

I pull myself up into a sitting position, accidentally on purpose kicking Gale’s outstretched shin as I do so. “Honestly, I don’t mind. I probably need to get away from this guy here for a bit - I’ve had to put up with him all afternoon while he whined about the weather.”

“ _You_ whined,” Gale retorts. His gaze hasn’t shifted once from the kids falling about haphazardly on the ice and I wonder if the heat really  _has_  fried his brain.

“Well that’s the penance you pay for having the glory of the weekends off from working - the pleasure of Gale’s company,” Katniss says drily. “While I bust my ass at the campground, you guys get to bum around before you go back to your air conditioned office jobs on Monday.”

I laugh, and I watch as her eyes dance and her lips twitch in response. The effect her simple reaction has on me is immediate, and I automatically curse myself for the thoughts and feelings that rush through me. Because I’m not meant be in love with Katniss Everdeen. She’s meant to be my housemate, my friend - nothing more.

Except 5 years earlier, she’d walked into mine and Gale’s dorm room at college, all silver eyes and moody disposition, and I’ve never been the same since.

“Really, though, I’ll go and replace it. We have food rules here and I have to abide by them,” I tell her seriously, with a mock salute. She knows that, while I’m completely making fun of the rules we put in place when we all moved in to the house on Flickerman Drive, I’m also being 100% genuine.

Over the years, Katniss has learnt my moods just as well as I’ve learnt hers.

The small lines between her eyebrows begin to form, and I know she’s fighting with an instinct to say no when she really wants to say yes. “Just say yes, Katniss,” I finally implore her, “Because you know I’ll go and get it anyway.”

“ _Fiiiiiiiiine_ ,” she sighs, but she smiles, and I know that for all her bluster, she appreciates it.

I pull myself to my feet and drag my shirt back down over my head, ignoring my needy imagination that tells me that Katniss’ eyes linger on my bare chest for just a moment longer than necessary. I grab my wallet and keys from the coffee table, throw another glance in her direction. “Just ice cream?”

“Just ice cream,” she confirms, and she bites down on her bottom lip before continuing. “And thanks, Peeta.”

“Anytime,” I smile at her.

I lightly kick Gale again as I pass, ignore his muttered request for a six pack of beer, and prepare myself for the heat outside.  _Going outside right now is ridiculous_ , I think with a sigh.

But it’s just another reminder that I’m so stupidly in love with Katniss Everdeen.

And it’s my one mood, my one feeling, that she has no idea about.


	39. Trying to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> louezem asked: "‘we both came to this bar to get drunk and forget our problems but wow that’s expensive, wanna share?’ au... everlark." This...isn't as fluffy as I'm sure Lou would have liked. 
> 
> Warning: Allusions to acts in relation to Capitol practices.

She steps inside the dimly lit bar, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. Soft music pulses through hidden speakers, shelves of brightly coloured bottles line up along the wall behind the bar, and candles flicker in sconces embedded in the exposed brick walls.

Her eyes latch onto him, hunched over the mahogany length at the far end of the room. She sighs quietly as she sees the heavily tattooed bartender watching him carefully as he reaches for a bright green bottle, pouring a fifth into a short, stout glass for a man three seats down the bar. She ignores the bartender, directing her gaze back to him and studies his form, at the way his body is almost curled in on itself - his shoulders are slumped, and the smooth fabric of his shirt is stretched across his broad back, as though he’s one size too big for it.

_But she knows that’s how they like it here. They like the pants tight and the shirts tighter; and she knows he hates it with a vengeance. Much like she does._

Katniss weaves her way through the tables that are half-filled with customers at varying stages of inebriation. She knows they look twice at her – sometimes three times - taking in her lean body in the fitted green dress she’d thrown on at the last minute. She wishes she was in her hunting jacket, and a long pair of pants, but that would never go here. Not even the clout she carries would let her get away with that.

She slides onto the seat beside him, her hand nudging against his as she glares sharply enough at the bartender to keep him away. “I thought I’d find you here,” she says quietly, and he shrugs in response.

“I guess I’m not so full of surprises anymore,” he replies, and his voice is hoarse, as though he’s been crying.

Katniss dips her head, trying to get a better look at his face, and he turns to her then, abruptly enough that she almost falls off her seat in her haste to pull back. But she’s right. Tears have made tracks down his cheeks, and his eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. She feels her heart break just looking at him, and can’t help but reach her hand out to him.

“Oh, Peeta, I’m sorry,” she breathes, and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t be sorry, Katniss,” he tells her with a soft sigh. “You can’t help this any more than I can.”

“But-“

“No.” His voice is firm, even as he tugs his hand away and reaches for the glass in front of him, raising it to his lips.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. Spend your nights here…after.”

He laughs almost mirthlessly, and it makes her ache inside to see what they’ve done to him. They changed him, even though he so desperately didn’t want them to. “I have to, Katniss. I can’t stay there after. And I can’t go home. So where else can I go?”

She swallows heavily. “Of course you can come home. It’s where you’re meant to be.” She hates using the word  _home_ , hates referring to their apartment here as that. But she’s gotten so used to it by now that she almost doesn’t know what else to call it.

He spins his now empty glass on the benchtop. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t come home to you, Katniss. Not after. I’m…I’m not clean. And I don’t want to feel that way around you.”

She bites the inside of her cheek to stop from crying, because she knows how he feels – it makes her feel the same way. But she knows that when she gets back to their Capitol apartment, and he’s there to wrap his arms around her, and be the comfort and strength and support she’s leant on for almost two years now, it makes her feel better.

She wishes she could do the same for him.

He shakes his head again, almost as though he’s shaking his own thoughts away, and wipes his cheeks dry before lifting his finger to get the bartenders attention. The man comes over, and not only do his eyes rake over Peeta, they rake over Katniss as well. Eagerly. Lustfully.

_She wants to be sick._

“I’ll have the bottle, and another glass,” Peeta tells him bluntly, either ignorant of or ignoring the man’s insistent gaze.

“But Mr Mellark, that’s-“

“Expensive. I know. But I can afford it. You know as well as I do that I can,” he bites out, and the bartender shrugs, reaching behind him for a golden bottle that’s about ¾ full. He slides it in front of Peeta and fills both Peeta’s and a new glass to the rim.

“Drink,” Peeta tells Katniss, tipping his head down to the glass. “It’s on me.”

“But-“

“Katniss, just drink. Please.” His voice wavers slightly, and she knows if it was anyone but Peeta, she wouldn’t. But she does, downing it in one shot like she’s become accustomed to on her visits here. It burns down her throat, sits in her belly like liquid fire. She wonders exactly when Haymitch got used to it, when he began to enjoy it.

She’s still nowhere close to either.

Katniss lowers her gaze to where their hands still rest on the bar, separated by barely an inch, and doesn’t think twice when she slowly slides her own over his, interlocking their fingers. “Was it bad tonight?” she whispers hesitantly.

“It’s always bad,” he replies with little inflection, but then she feels his fingers clench around hers tightly. “There were two.”

“Oh.”

_She hates those nights._

“But…we have to do what we have to do, I suppose,” he says with a sigh. “Happy birthday to me.”

Her eyes widen, and she looks at him in shock. “Peeta? What? It’s…it’s your birthday?”

_How did she forget? How has this month flown by so quickly that she forgot his birthday?_

Peeta smiles, but it’s bitter and remorseful and melancholy. “It’s not technically until tomorrow, but President Snow thought tonight would be a nice early gift for me.”

Her stomach pitches in disgust. “But-“

“It’s not important,” he tells her quietly. 

“It is to me.” Katniss reaches over, pulls the glass out of his grip, setting it down hard on the bar. “Let’s not stay here, Peeta. Let’s go home. I’m sure President Snow can’t begrudge the Star Crossed lovers wanting to ring in your birthday together, right?”

She watches his Adam’s apple bob before he nods slowly. “Okay.”

Peeta slides off his stool, and Katniss follows immediately after, tugging her skirt down her thighs. Their hands stay intertwined as they walk away, as they wrap smiles across their faces and make their eyes appear happy and carefree - always on show, always prepared to be the perfect couple for the citizens of the Capitol.

And as they walk outside into the crisp night air, Katniss promises herself that when Peeta falls asleep tonight, she’ll stay in his room until the sun rises to keep the inevitable nightmares at bay.


	40. Sporting Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Everlark at their child's first sports game???? :)"

The first time Katniss had seen Glimmer Roberts, she’d been dropping Holly off at Panem Elementary early on a crisp, spring Monday morning. She’d known instantly that she and the glamorous blonde in skinny jeans, with impeccable makeup and 6 inch heels who’d been standing outside the front gate - _seriously, who wore 6 inch heels to take their kid to school??!_ \- would never, ever get along. And later that week, when she’d asked Madge who the new trophy wife wannabe was, her friend had done nothing but smirk, and Katniss had known her gut instinct had been right. Over coffee and hot chocolate, Madge had proceeded to tell her about the man-hungry woman who’d already been married three times and engaged an extra two, and since moving to town four months earlier, had tried to hit on every young, single male teacher or parent at the school.

The last thing Katniss had expected, though, had been to see the flirtation aimed at  _her_  husband.

She knew Peeta was hot, there were no two ways about it; he had been since the moment she’d laid eyes on him at 18 on the middle of their college campus. He’d been Mr Popular, while she’d been desperate to blend in and do nothing but get her degree. In the end, he’d won her over, though, with his dogged persistence and his blue eyes and his warm heart and his very, very talented mouth. She’d fallen in love with him without intending to, had agreed to marry him although she’d never intended to get married, and hadn’t regretted it one bit since.

Over the years there’d been a few lingering glances directed at him from customers, and giggling schoolgirls who all whispered behind their hands about ‘the hot baker’ as they stood outside the bakery. But she’d never seen such a blatant and obvious flirtation before - up until now, as Glimmer McTrash shamelessly hit on the father of her children. At her  _kid’s soccer game_ , for crying out loud!

With intent in her step and determination on her face, Katniss crossed the parking lot, hitching the gym bag - which contained Holly’s shoes that they’d forgotten at home - over her shoulder. She knew Peeta would be oblivious to the fact that the blonde was flirting with him, and to the fact that the top two buttons on her blouse weren’t undone by accident. She knew  _he’d_  just consider it friendly conversation, while he paid more attention to their 18 month old son tucked into his stroller than her; but even from 10 yards away, Katniss could see the predatory light in Glimmer’s eyes.

Quickly heading over to where Holly was sitting with her group of friends and helping her with her shoes, she carried the now-empty bag by the handle and headed to the sideline. Clearing her throat, she sidled up beside Peeta, squeezed his hand briefly before she bent down to plant a kiss on Asher’s wayward blond curls.

“Hey Katniss, glad you’re back,” he greeted, his arm wrapping around her waist as she straightened. “I was just chatting to Glimmer - she’s relatively new in town. Glimmer, this is my wife, Katniss.”

She watched as Glimmer visibly started, as she shot a gaze down to Peeta’s left hand. Katniss already knew it was bare - he never wore his ring to work, and they’d picked him up from the bakery to go straight to the sporting fields - but Glimmer’s swift recovery was admirable. “Oh, well it’s nice to meet you, Katniss,” Glimmer crooned -  _actually crooned!_  - extending a tanned, perfectly manicured hand. Katniss took it, bemused at the limp-as-a-fish handshake the woman had, before they both dropped their hands quickly to their sides. “Peeta and I were discussing how excited we both are at our girls starting soccer.”

Peeta smiled, turned to look at where the 6 year olds were attempting to warm up, giving Glimmer long enough to narrow her big green eyes and glare at Katniss. She watched in amusement as the blonde’s face visibly brightened again in time for Peeta turning back to her. “Well I’m definitely more than just excited - I played all through school and college, and I’m loving seeing Hols follow in my footsteps.”

“Oh, I bet you played  _wonderfully_ ,” Glimmer said sweetly, before turning to Katniss, her voice dropping several levels to practically frozen. “And what about you? Did you play soccer as well?”

“Oh no,” Katniss replied, shaking her head slowly. “I did archery.”

Glimmer wrinkled her nose. “Really? Such an…odd sport.”

Katniss laughed. “You’re not from around here, are you? Archery is pretty big in this state.”

“Well, whatever interests you, I suppose,” Glimmer waved a hand flippantly. “Were you any good?”

“She’s  _still_  good,” Peeta boasted proudly. “She could hit a bullseye from over 100 yards away, easy.”

“Yes,” Katniss agreed, and waited until the blonde looked back at her before continuing. “And when I pick a target, I rarely miss.” This time, she narrowed her own eyes, jutted her chin forward. “Even when it’s moving.”

She wasn’t threatening her or anything. She just figured she should let Glimmer know.

With a tight-lipped smile, Glimmer’s hand clutched around the strap of her bag. “Well, I guess should head down the other end, the game is about to start and my Tiffani is in goal!” Without saying anything more, she trotted off on her heels, shooting one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing into a crowd of parents.

Peeta pulled Katniss in tighter to his side, lowered his mouth down to the shell of her ear. His breath was warm and tickled her skin, and he laughed softly. “Damn, you’re hot when you’re jealous.”

She huffed, folded her arms across her chest. “I was  _not_.”

“Were too. It was practically emanating off you in waves.” He tucked his head in closer, nuzzled her neck. “I loved it. You should be more jealous more often.”

“Oh shut up and watch your daughter play,” Katniss muttered, her cheeks flushing, as the group of girls all ran onto the field in a flurry of limbs and swinging ponytails.

But a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she figured when the kids were in bed tonight, maybe she and Peeta could play a little sport of their own kind.


	41. Just One Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Can you please write either everlark teaching their daughter how to walk or something, post mockingjay that is very fluffy."

It was always just one step. One step, and he’d feel his heart start to race a little, his eyes begin to widen just slightly, and he’d open his mouth ready to call Katniss in from the other room. And then almost before it had even begun, it would be over again, and she’d plop back down on the floor, stick a thumb or her little plush toy rabbit into her mouth, utterly oblivious as to how intently he watched her.

Peeta knew, deep down, that there was no rush. Both of Delly’s kids hadn’t started walking until they were well over a year old, and he remembered that Dylan Odair had taken his first steps at 11 months. But the idea of his own baby girl walking was thrilling and he wanted it to happen now. Just the thought alone filled him with so much premature pride, it was ridiculous.

Although, to be fair, it also filled him with complete and utter terror because after walking came feeding herself, and then came tying her own shoelaces and before he knew it there would be boys lining up on their porch-

He shook his head forcefully.  _Okay, no. Absolutely not. He’d changed his mind. Holly was never, ever going to start walking._

“Peeta?” He heard Katniss’ voice before he saw her, though he shouldn’t have been surprised - her footsteps were still light and measured and careful after all these years.

He glanced up at her from his spot on the floor, watched the light from the candles he’d placed high up on the fireplace mantle flicker and dance across her olive skin. Even after all these years, it still took his breath away every time he looked at her.

“Hey.” He held out a hand, smiled as she crossed the room towards him. Her fingers twined through his, and he tugged on her hand lightly until she lowered herself beside him. Her body tucked into his, her up drawn knees resting against his own legs, her free hand reaching across to draw faint patterns on the thigh of his pants.

“How you doing?” she said quietly. He knew his flashbacks bothered her as much - if not more - than they bothered him, though they were nowhere near as bad as they used to be. The one he’d had earlier in the afternoon, however, had given him no choice but to lock himself away in the attic until it had passed.

The ones about mutts and tracker jackers and blood on his hands were always the worst.

“I’m okay,” Peeta replied, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “Spending time with Holly always makes things better.”

It had taken him a long time to feel comfortable being around Katniss in the hours after a flashback, the images lingering behind his eyes and in his mind long after the memories themselves had passed. He’d fought with his instinct and need to be with her, instead keeping to himself for the rest of the day, sometimes even the day after that. And Katniss had let him, understanding his need to work his way through it. After all, she’d often done the same when her own memories came back to haunt her.

Eventually, they’d realised they recovered better  _together_  - holding each other through the nightmares, soothing away the hours after a flashback, a simple brush of a hand against the others when someone or something reminded them of what they’d lost. And it had only intensified when Holly was born. Now, the knowledge that they not only had each other, but also a little girl who depended solely on them, brought them back from those dark places even quicker, even easier. 

“Me too,” Katniss murmured. She glanced over to where their daughter was eagerly pulling herself up with the side of her toy box, plump hands batting at a bright green ball closest to her reach. “I can’t help but want to look at those eyes.” She turned her head to look at Peeta, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly. “Or yours. They make me happy again.”

Hearing things like that fall from Katniss’ mouth always sent a rush of pleasure through him. “Well, I could say the same,” he said, lowering his head to press his lips lightly to hers. He drew away, allowed her to rest her cheek on his shoulder. “How’s Haymitch?”

“I took him some stew, and boiled some hot water so he could steep some tea. It’s just a cold, and he’s being a big baby.”

Peeta chuckled. “So sympathetic.”

“He doesn’t want me babying him any more than I want to baby him. He’s grumbly because we won’t let him see Holly.” She rolled her eyes, but Peeta knew that it meant more to her than she’d ever admit. Their baby might not have grandfathers by blood, but Haymitch Abernathy more than fit the bill.

“He understands why,” Peeta told her. “You know he doesn’t want her to get sick any more than what we do.”

“I know.”

He should have known it would happen when he least expected it, when they weren’t even really paying attention. But the sudden movement caught the corner of his eye, and both his and Katniss’ heads swung around almost in unison as they watched Holly take that requisite one, hesitant step. Both of them inhaled sharply, waited for her rump to hit the thick rug in the middle of the room. 

But then the second step came. And the third.

The smile on her face, brightening those blue eyes so much like his, blinded him. She laughed, held the ball out towards them, and he wondered if his heart could get any bigger.

And then she was sitting again, her giggles filling the room as the ball bounced out of her hand and across the floor.

“Oh shit,” Peeta murmured, his fingers clutching Katniss’ as terror and pride warred within him. “She’ll be sixteen next.”

Katniss laughed, extracted herself from his embrace so she could shuffle forward to lift Holly into her arms. She moved back beside him, allowed the little girl to pat happily at her cheeks. “She’s got a long way to go before she reaches that milestone,” she said, grinning at their daughter. “Let’s just enjoy these steps for now, Daddy.”

He smiled softly, ruffled the short dark hair that dusted Holly’s head, and knew that even though he had to worry about boys one day knocking on his front door to date her, he would never have to worry about her having the nightmares of her parents. 

And really, that made all the difference in the world.

 


	42. Here's A Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift for the lovely dragonprincess76, who loves a good old rivalry trope, and travelling ;)

_“Peeta is amazing! I would recommend him to anyone. So friendly, and knowledgeable too!”_

_“A+ guide. Peeta knows everything about Panem and more - I couldn’t think of a better person to show us the sights!”  
_

_“A friend recommended this tour to us based purely on the guide alone, and they weren’t wrong. Peeta made our day easy, fun and we will definitely pass on our own recommendations to others.”  
_

Katniss Everdeen rolled her eyes, filed away yet another day’s worth of glowing reviews into the tracking system. It was bad enough that she had to hear them all when the tour group returned to their booking office at the end of the day, full of enthusiasm for their guide - along with the titters of women of all ages who weren’t subtle in their ruminations over how good his ass looked in his jeans - but she also had to read them all online afterwards too. Then register and file them. It had officially become her least favourite work task.

Peeta Mellark was the number one tour guide in Panem, and she was blatantly reminded of it _every damn day._

Pushing backwards on her seat, the wheels carrying her swiftly across the carpeted floor back to her desk, she punched in her final tallies for the day, ignoring the bickering between her co-workers Johanna and Madge in the back room. _28, 29, 30-_

“Geez, Everdeen, are you coming??” Johanna yelled, not even paying any heed to the handful of straggling tourists that were still making their way out the door. 

“I’m just finishing up,” Katniss muttered. “Give me two minutes.“ 

A set of keys got tossed on the counter in front of her. "Then close up after these people have left, will you?” This time, Johanna had the decency to lower her voice. “Madge and I are done, and are heading around to Sae’s. You can meet us there.”

“What if I don’t want to come for drinks?”

“Tough,” Johanna countered. “We all agreed we’d go out tonight as a celebration for exceeding targets for the sixth month in a row - so you better show up. I mean it. Otherwise I’ll get Haymitch to pair you with Peeta the next time he needs a fill-in driver.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, but murmured her assent. It was enough to get Johanna to finally leave, and within ten minutes, the lingering tourists were gone, and the only person left was her, in blessed, wonderful silence. 

Finally.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like her job - surprisingly, she did. She hadn’t set out for a career with it; she’d simply been looking for a new casual job so she could save enough money to maybe go to community college, as well as help out her sister, Prim, with her medical school bills. The advertisement in the local paper for Passport to Panem Tours had caught her eye - better pay than what she’d been getting at the restaurant she’d been working at, decent hours, no experience necessary and the office was literally around the corner from her small apartment. The only downside had been the constant people interaction it would require, but she figured no matter what job she had, she’d have to deal with that. And so she’d applied, been lucky enough to get it, and three years later, was now a full-time booking guide for PPT. She liked her team, liked the work, and - at least 70% of the time - liked the excited customers who came in looking for a sense of adventure.

She spent her days booking excursions and day trips and private tours, from the budget traveller to the snottiest of the elite from the Capitol itself. And for every tour or trip she booked, she racked up what Haymitch Abernathy - the grumpy, surly and shrewd owner of PPT - liked to call tesserae. And for whatever staff member had the most tesserae at the end of each month, a nice little bonus waited for them.

The potential of the bonus was what drove Katniss every month, what put a fake smile on her face as she dealt with another grumpy customer, what prevented her from snapping each time someone changed their mind twenty times in one booking session. That bonus meant a little more in the bank, a little more for Prim, a little more towards the tiny nest egg she was building for their future.

Except that while she’d been consistent enough to get the bonus at least 3 times a year over the last few years, and for three months straight at the start of the current year, the last three in a row had gone to Peeta Mellark. Wonder Boy, Tour Guide Extraordinaire, The Man Whose Ass the Ladies Went Nuts For.

Haymitch had poached him from a rival tour company, had heard of his extensive knowledge of Panem, his effervescent charm and friendly manner and exceptional reviews. And - as the tour guides’ tesserae was based around reviews and comments rather than booking numbers and figures - his rave reviews with PPT meant the monthly bonus was something Katniss had had to reluctantly kiss goodbye.

But not this month.

She knew her figures were great. Knew she’d kicked the ass of every other booking guide in their team, especially after she’d locked in a group of 48 people just the day before to head out to the exceptional redwood forests. And while she didn’t know for sure what the tallies were for the tour guides, she knew there was no way Peeta could beat her. At all.

With a grin on her face, she shut down her computer, grabbed her jacket, and headed to Sae’s.

********

“And for the fourth month in a row - kids, the drinks are on Mellark!” Haymitch’s alcohol fuelled announcement echoed through the bar, followed by a series of whoops, cheers and catcalls.

And Katniss’ thinly veiled  _fuck_.

“I can’t believe it,” she hissed, staring down into her almost empty glass. “I was sure I had it this month.”

“Sorry, K.” Madge reached out, tapped the back of her hand in recognition. “I know you tried super hard.”

“I just…” Katniss trailed off, stared over to where Peeta - all blond hair, blue eyes, and stupid Colgate smile - stood with his elbow resting on the bar, oblivious to her glare. “I know others haven’t gotten the bonus in ages, but-”

“I know. I get it.” And Katniss knew Madge did. Madge was probably a big reason why Katniss had gotten her job in the first place - the niece of Haymitch, and likely to take over the business when he retired, Madge had put in a good word for her old high school friend when she’d seen her application come in. Having seen Katniss grow up more on the wrong side of the poverty line than not, Madge knew just how tight money had always been, and just how important the bonus was to her when she was lucky enough to receive it. And with Prim’s 21st birthday just around the corner, Madge would definitely know how much it would have meant to Katniss to be able to splurge just a little on her only sibling.

But other than Madge, no one else knew the importance of it, and saw her drive to win the bonus as simply nothing more than Katniss’ competitiveness, a strong sense of rivalry.

Not her desire to make her sister’s life a little easier.

“Drinks, ladies?”

Katniss looked up to see Peeta’s smiling face just beside them, his eyebrow raised in question.

“No thanks,” she snapped.

“I’ll take a pinot noir,” Madge said airily. “Or two, to make up for Katniss.”

“Sure,” he said agreeably. “Are you sure, Katniss? Drinks, as Haymitch announced, are on me.”

“I’d rather not.” She turned her back to him, hunched over the worn mahogany bar.

“Suit yourself,” he replied, calling out to the bartender for Madge’s order, along with a beer for himself. Katniss could have almost fallen off her stool when he settled himself in on the seat beside her, the leather cracking and shifting with the movement. “It was pretty close between us this month, from what Haymitch told me just before,” he began, not even realising the way Katniss’ shoulders tensed. She knew her eyes had narrowed into slits, and if she was in a cartoon, she was certain there would be smoke coming out of her ears. “I think there was less than 10 tesserae to it.”

“How lucky for you,” she muttered through clenched teeth. She shifted her head, glared at Madge as she watched her friend pick up her new drinks and slide off her seat, inching away. _Getting out of the line of fire_ , Katniss presumed, and she couldn’t blame her. Any minute now she was likely to lose her shit. Who did this guy even think he was?

“It was,” he agreed. “But you always give me a run for my money, Everdeen, so thanks. It pushes me even harder.”

“ _Greeeeeeeat_.” She emphasised the ‘e’, didn’t even bother to disguise the roll of her eyes that accompanied it.

He laughed in reply. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“I don’t care about you, there’s a difference,” Katniss shot back, barely sparing him a glance.

“Why?”

“Why?” She turned to face him directly. “Because you come waltzing in to PPT with your all American good looks and unwavering charm, and basically take it over. It was much more of an even playing field between all of us before you came along.”

He sipped at his drink and studied her carefully; she tried to ignore the weird flutter in her stomach. Damn, she knew she should never order the nachos at Sae’s. “So by me just doing my job, and achieving that bonus, you don’t like me.”

“In a nutshell.”

He watched her again, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Alright then, Everdeen, here’s a deal for you.” He leant forward so that it was clear his words were only intended for her. “This month, whoever loses out of the two of us - I know either you or I are going to win the bonus - has to take the winner out for dinner. And has to pay them ten percent of the usual bonus amount, as a little sweetener. No one else knows about this deal other than us, so there’s no outsider interference. What do you say?”

 _This sounded flawed at every angle._  “No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I even want to do that? It sounds flawed and stupid and doesn’t make any sense.”

Peeta grinned. “Does it matter if it makes sense or not? I’ve worked with PPT for almost 6 months now, and beyond a little interaction in between me arriving at the office and heading off with a group, I haven’t really gotten to know you that well. This could rectify that.”

Katniss pushed her braid off her shoulder impatiently. “Maybe I don’t want it rectified.”

“Maybe you don’t. But an extra ten percent is worth it - and I get the feeling your competitiveness is going to get you to agree anyway.”

 _It’s not about competitiveness, I just want to buy Prim a decent birthday present!_ her head was screaming, but she shrugged. No one here - outside of Madge, anyway - needed to know the real reason. “Fine,” she finally sighed. 

“You’re on.”

“Shake on it?” He held out a hand - smooth skin that had slowly gone from pale to a warm golden colour as summer had come on - and she took it reluctantly. At least he had a strong, firm grip, she mused, ignoring the softness of his palm against hers before tugging her hand away.

“Then I’ll see you on the review pages, Everdeen.”

“See you being hit on by old ladies, Mellark.”

********

Keeping their agreement a secret was tough. She wanted to confide in Madge, and even Jo, to help her get across the line, to beat Peeta at his own bet. But she’d made a promise, had shaken on it, and Katniss Everdeen didn’t break a promise.

So instead, she worked her ass off.

She booked more tours than she ever had, helped Darius with a 4 day all-inclusive Capitol City tour for a group of tourists from China that bumped up her figures to a new level. She ignored Peeta when he dropped in at the end of his shift, didn’t pay any attention to him as he slid into one of the spare counter desks to complete his paperwork, or when he recounted a particularly funny story about a couple who got a little too horny on the bus on the way back from a winery tour.

She ignored the way a group of young women lingered one day after their trip had ended, all hoping to try and snag his number. Consummate professional that he was, none of them were successful - but he grinned at Katniss afterwards, shrugged bashfully at the attention when Johanna called him out for being a shameless flirt. She ignored the way his blue eyes lit up when he chatted on his iPhone as he walked out of the office - probably some bimbo girlfriend on the other end of the line - and refused to accept a piece of caramel he offered her from the big box he’d bought on one of his trips.

And she steadfastly ignored the way his ass looked in his jeans. Because even she couldn’t argue with the ladies on that one.

Three weeks into their bet, she realised she was actually paying a lot of attention to someone she was trying her best to ignore.

********

There were no drinks for this occasion, just a simple announcement in the back office on the first day of the month.

“Alright, alright, settle down!” Haymitch waved an arm about impatiently, in an attempt to quiet the excited chatter that filled the room. It was packed - corner to corner - with every staff member. Katniss couldn’t think of any other work occasion that always guaranteed 100% attendance. “I know you all like to go crazy with these announcements, so I’m going to keep it short, but sweet. This month was close - closest it’s ever been with only 1 tesserae between first and second place. So congrats, Darius, on scooting by on the barest of margins.”

Katniss blinked. _Once, twice, three times._  Then swivelled her head around to face Peeta, who she knew was seated on the other side of the room. His mouth was open wide in shock, his own eyes disbelieving as he caught her eye. 

_Darius??_

“Mellark and Everdeen, you tied for second. Don’t know what the hell it is you guys do every month, but you’re damned consistent, I’ll give you that.” Haymitch ran a hand across his ever present 3 day growth. “Get out of here then, kids. Sure you got families to see more than you want to see me.”

Katniss rose as if in a daze, her feet carrying her out of the room without thought. She’d lost - again. She’d worked like mad, only to be trumped. But then again, Peeta hadn’t won either. His streak had ended.

And neither of them had come up with the bonus.

She moved back out to her desk, reached under the counter to grab her purse, and straightened up to find Peeta in front of her.

“I, uh…I guess we both lost,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Strangely, it looked like a nervous gesture, and Katniss had never seen him nervous before.

“Yep, we did,” she replied shortly. “I guess neither of us owe each other anything.”  _And we don’t have to have dinner either._

She was surprised to realise she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that.

“We can have, maybe, a conciliatory drink, if you like. Buy our own way so it’s all fair.”

Katniss slung the strap of her bag over her head, rested it against her hip. “You want to have a drink.”

“Just one. Nothing more, nothing less. Don’t want to go too crazy, especially knowing that I have to get back in the game for this month.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. Always have to win.”

He shrugged, slid his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, glanced around the room as though he didn’t want any of the other staff to hear. “Well…it’s not a matter of always having to win. I do like a good game and all, but between you and me, it’s not winning that gets me over the line.”

“No, just the money.”

Peeta nodded. “Pretty much. I do it so I can help my brother out, so yeah. That’s my drive for the bonus.”

 _Wait, what?_  Katniss’ eyebrows winged up in surprise. “Your brother?” _Dammit. She wasn’t supposed to ask him questions_.

But he wasn’t supposed to give his bonus to his brother, either.

Peeta shifted nervously on his feet. “Yeah, my nephew has been pretty ill, and has been going through rounds of medical tests for months - the doctors bills are piling up, so I’ve been helping them out. The whole bonus scheme at PPT was a real motivator for me to switch from Capitol Getaways - if I was lucky enough to win the bonus, it would be a real help to Ethen and Ella and Andy.”

If she was a fish, Katniss was pretty sure her mouth would be gaping. “I…I had no idea.”

His cheeks were pink. “I don’t really tell anyone about it. It’s not exactly water cooler conversation, and I figure I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for us or anything. Plus…I guess in the end, I really do like my job, and I like PPT, and I like the people I work with. So it’s not hard to do my best.” His tongue slicked out, ran across his lower lip absently; Katniss found her gaze following the movement, until she snapped herself back to attention.  _Maybe…maybe one drink wouldn’t be so bad._

“Okay. One drink,” she agreed. “And maybe I’ll tell you what my motivation is each month.”

“I’d like that.” He smiled widely and gestured towards the door. “So…do you want to go now?”

 _There was no time like the present_ , she supposed. “Alright, let’s go.”

She turned towards the exit, felt the brush of his hand on the small of her back as he guided her out the door. And couldn’t ignore the way his touch felt like it seared into her skin, the way it felt like a million butterflies flared up in her stomach, the way the frisson of electricity danced up her spine.

Something told her this month’s competition between them was going to be vastly different.


	43. Bedtime Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday nights had officially become Daddy and Daughter Night in the Mellark household...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my very good friend MalTease, aka everythingbutthemockingjay, on the event of her birthday. xo

She ran into the room in front of him, leaping onto the bed and jumping up and down on it in enthusiasm, her long black braids bouncing over her shoulders with each movement. “The forest princess story, the forest princess story!”

Heading straight to the shelves bursting with books and trinkets and toys and the flotsam and jetsam of a six year old, Peeta Mellark slid the requested book from the top shelf. He turned to face his daughter with a wry lift of his eyebrow; it was the only warning she needed to drop to her knees on top of the mattress before scrambling under the sheets and pulling them up under her arms.

“Sorry Daddy!” Holly sang, sounding no more sorry than Haymitch - their next door neighbour - did whenever his geese escaped out of his yard.

“You know what Mommy and I said about jumping on the bed,” Peeta warned, crossing the room to settle himself beside her. He stretched his legs out in front of him - rain was coming, he could feel it. The knee injury from his high school wrestling days always flared up when the weather was about to change, and tonight, the ache was growing from dull to downright painful. “You could hurt yourself.”

“I knooooooow,” Holly sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “But I’s just excited!”

“Oh are you now?”

“Yes!” She straightened again and tugged on the ends of the braids, her fingers looping around the dark green hair ties that bound them as she looked up at him excitedly. “Story night’s one of the bestest!”

Peeta couldn’t deny that he agreed with her. Thursday nights had officially become Daddy and Daughter Night over the last six months, and he always looked forward to spending the time with his little girl. It was an evening just for the two of them - sometimes they baked, sometimes they painted in his home studio in the basement; Peeta with brushes, Holly more with her fingers than anything else. Other times, they’d pile onto her bed and read one of the three million books Holly’s honorary aunt - and Peeta’s art agent, Effie - would gift to her on birthdays, Christmas…and whatever other holiday or reason the woman could come up with. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate all the other nights and days of the week, the other times he spent with Holly and his son Asher together or individually; he appreciated them all, sometimes still utterly amazed that he’d been gifted with this family. But seeing how quickly Delly’s girls had suddenly grown up, he knew that one day Holly wouldn’t necessarily want to spend as much time with him. So he liked the idea of the dedicated night, with making the most of  _now_ , when she still thought he hung the moon and that cheese buns fixed everything and while she thought her parents were the  _bestest ever_. 

“Alrighty, Hols Bols,” Peeta started, and she immediately snuggled in against him, dropping her head back to his shoulder. “You want to give it a try reading tonight?”

He felt her shake her head against him. “Nu-huh, just you,” she demanded. “And do the voices!”

“Please?”

“Pleeeeeeease.”

He grinned, flexed his toes slightly in the hopes it might relieve some of the pain in his knee, and began.

_Once upon a time…_

He got caught up in recounting the story of the girl who lived in the woods, who spent her days climbing trees and chasing animals and swimming in lakes, only to be stolen away by an evil man from a shining castle far away who kept her locked up in the dungeons. But the girl was smart and resourceful and with the help of a boy that she fell in love with - the son of the castle cook - she managed to escape and they lived happily ever after together. It was one of Holly’s favourites, and he often wondered if it was because she liked to think the dark haired girl on the cover looked like her - and, as a result, just like her mother.

They laughed together through the funny bits, he heard Holly sniffle when it looked like the ‘forest princess’ had lost the cook’s son forever, and he listened to her sigh happily when the girl and her boy finally escaped the castle and began their journey back to her home.

Reaching the end of the story, his voice levels softer than when he first began, Peeta looked down at his now sleeping daughter, her mouth open wide and a faint snore escaping with each breath. And he grinned.

_Yup. She was just like her mother._

He looked over at the sound of a creaky floorboard to see his wife leaning against the doorframe, watching them quietly. Despite the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, he could still see annoyance on her face and a frown line set between her eyebrows.

Extracting himself from Holly’s limp, sleep-addled embrace, he tucked the sheets tighter around her, turned off the bedside lamp and dropped a quick kiss to her forehead before crossing over to Katniss.

“How’d it go?” He asked quietly, resting a hand on her hip and putting his weight on his good leg.

“Don’t even ask,” Katniss muttered.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” The pout was so unlike her, but he’d grown used to it over the last few months. She glanced down at his leg, concern softening her features. “Is your knee playing up?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’d expect rain tomorrow.”

She sighed. “And that means the archery fields will be a muddy mess.”

“You love it on those days, don’t even pretend otherwise.”

“You’re right, I do.” Katniss smiled, looked over his shoulder back into the bedroom. “You should head on to bed and rest that knee - I’m going to kiss Holly goodnight, and then I’ll be there.”

“Asher still asleep?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I checked in on him first.”

“Good.” Peeta squeezed her hip quickly before dropping his hand back to his side. “I’ll see you in a few.

He stepped out and limped down the hallway towards their bedroom, quickly folding the quilt down and stripping his shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor. He slid into bed, plumped the pillows behind him, gently rubbed some liniment over his knee, and waited for his wife to come in and decompress.

It didn’t take her long.

“She’s out like a light,” Katniss murmured, stepping into the room. She dropped to her knees at the edge of the bed, crawled up it to sprawl beside him on her stomach. They both lay there in silence for a few moments, until Peeta spoke up.

“So it was that bad, huh?” he asked, rubbing her back lightly.

“It sucks.”

“I’m sorry. They still haven’t gotten together?” He fought to keep the grin off his face, for his voice to remain sympathetic. He couldn’t lie - he found it amusing and kind of fun that his wife had gotten sucked into a television show so badly. Every Thursday she holed up in the den and streamed two episodes, waiting with baited breath just to see if her favourite characters had finally gotten together or not. Never, in all the years he’d known her, had she ever gotten that deeply involved in something like this.

“No.” Her reply was muffled against the mattress before she turned her head and sighed. “Dammit, these writers just need to hurry up and put Harvey and Donna together already. I can’t keep doing this every week. I’m going to stop watching, I’m not even going to bother finishing season 4.”

“Yes you will.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I could kill Madge for getting me sucked into it.”

“I like it.” He slid down until they were almost face to face - he lifted a hand to brush her bangs back off her forehead before cupping it at the back of her head. “You’re always so…fired up afterwards.”

“But it’s stupid,” she muttered. “These people aren’t even real.”

“I don’t think that matters.”

With a sigh, she rose up on her elbows, shifting until she could rest her head on his chest. “I just wish they wouldn’t drag it out so much.”

“Good things come to those who wait, Katniss. Remember how long it took us to get together? Maybe when it’s real it just…takes time.”

“Real, huh?” She turned her head, sliding her hand under her chin so she could look at him. Her eyes, silver and gleaming in amusement, still made his stomach flip. “You comparing us to a fictional couple?”

“I’m just reminding you that things can be good in the end. Give Harvey and Donna time. Maybe they’ll sort themselves out.” He brushed a hand lightly up and down her arm, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now enough about them…let’s talk about us.”

A short, sharp wail came from the the baby monitor on Katniss’ bedside table, quickly followed by a high pitched cry that didn’t stop. And they both sighed.

“I knew it would be too good to be true for them to both be asleep already,” Katniss muttered.

“Yeah,” Peeta murmured. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead before he sat up and slid off the bed. “I’ll go check on Asher. Why don’t you go have a bath?”

Katniss rolled onto her back and looked up at him, confusion on her face. “A bath?”

“Sure. You can relax, get all that post-television viewing tension out of you. And when Asher’s asleep again…I’ll come and join you.”

“You’ll come and join me, huh?”

Peeta nodded, paused in the doorway. “The hot water will be good for my knee.” Then he winked slyly. “And just because your TV couple still isn’t hooking up doesn’t mean that we can’t.”

She flipped him the bird, in conjunction with a short laugh, and he grinned all the way down the hallway.

 


	44. Calm Your Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the occasion of my lovely friend Jeeno's birthday xo

The back door creaked open slightly with the nudge of her hip, before she pushed it the rest of the way with her elbow. On days like these - when the game was plentiful and the strawberries were ripe for the picking - Katniss always came back home with her satchel - and her arms and her hands - overflowing.

She hadn’t intended to pick the strawberries at first, focusing only on her snares, and the plump, fat rabbits that had been caught in them. But their bright red colour had stood out to her against the soft greens and earthy browns of the woods, and she hadn’t been able to resist plucking them from the patch. Plus, Peeta loved them, she told herself, as she’d stuffed another handful in her bag. He could make those little strawberry tarts like he had the previous summer. She’d liked those. A lot.

Dropping the cluster of rabbits onto the mudroom counter, she slipped off her boots, flecks of muddied earth falling to the smooth wooden floor beneath her feet. She sighed, knowing she’d have to come back and clean it up, but right now, first things first. She needed an ice-cold glass of water and a shower to go with it, to wash away the sweat and muck and grime she’d accumulated after a day in the woods. Then she could clean the game, show Peeta the berries-

The crash reverberated throughout the house, followed by a stream of lurid curses that at any other time, or in any other place, might have made her cheeks flush pink in shock. But not here, not now.

Her heart hammering in her chest, she peered around the door that led into the kitchen, could see the way he was hunched over one of the chairs tucked into the wide butcher block table, his fingers clutching the wooden back like it was his lifeline. He shook, his entire body quaking; the shattered plates on the floor had sliced at his feet, ribbons of blood sliding along the skin in thin rivulets.

_Oh no._

It had been so long since he’d had an episode, so long since they’d had to deal with anything beyond the slightest of nightmares. Their embraces in the middle of the night kept those mostly at bay and when they did hit, they were both there to calm the other, with soothing words and whispered promises and comforting arms.

But Peeta hadn’t experienced anything like this in months.

His shoulders were shaking, his murmurs angry and agitated, the words being bitten out between each gasping breath he took. And Katniss knew she couldn’t leave him alone for much longer - it cut her to the bone to see him this way.

She stepped into the room, took a wide circuit around the table until she knew she was in his line of sight. His head flew up, his eyes -  _so dark, so, so dark_  - boring into her, with anger, with loathing, with fear.

“Get out of here, you  _bitch_ ,” he hissed venomously, his fingers clenching even tighter, his knuckles almost translucent with the pressure.

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Get  _away from me_.”

“I’m not leaving you, Peeta,” Katniss said firmly, taking a step around the table to get closer to him, and he growled.

“Leave. Me. Alone.  _Mutt_.”

“No.” She clenched her jaw, spread her hands out wide in front of her in a placating gesture. She knew the drill by now, knew what worked, what didn’t. What calmed him down quicker than anything else. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not a mutt. Not real, Peeta. Not real.”

At her words, his eyes flickered, like something deep inside him understood.

“Get away,” he repeated hoarsely, but this time it seemed more of a plea than a demand.

Katniss didn’t move, just continued to stand in front of him, waiting. Waiting patiently. Waiting for him to calm, for the darkness to ebb away.

It felt like forever, but it was likely only a matter of minutes before she began to see the anger in his eyes recede. She took another step towards him, but he shook his head almost violently.

“I need to get it under control first,” he ground out, his words pushed through clenched teeth.

“You won’t hurt me,” she assured him.

“You don’t know that.”

“You haven’t hurt me once. Not once since you came back to Twelve.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“ _No_.” She took another step closer, reached her hand out to him tentatively. She laid it over one of his hands, felt it flinch underneath her touch. She could tell, from the way his muscles flexed and bunched under his forearms, that he was using every ounce of control he had not to let go.

“Katniss,” he warned again.

“Peeta,” she murmured, stepping around him so that she could wrap herself around him from behind, her chest resting against his heaving back, her arm circling his waist. His body was on fire, hot and sweaty and as taut as a wire. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. You won’t hurt me. I love you.”

She felt him break underneath her, the sobs wracking through his body, the tension draining from him almost immediately.

“What happened?” she finally asked, after he’d gotten his breathing under control and his shaking had downgraded to the slightest of tremors.

“I…” Peeta trailed off, clearing his throat. “I dropped the plate. That was all. It cut my foot, and then all I could see was my leg in the games, and the blood and then…then you. Holding a knife as you stood over me, glee and satisfaction clear on your face. So I just smashed the rest of them, wanting it to be you that I was breaking into a million pieces.”

“Not real.” She rested her head against his back, closed her eyes, her heart stuttering in her chest.

“I know,” Peeta muttered. “But it was there, and for a moment, it was so real. So real.”

She nodded, then shifted so she could press a kiss to the fabric of his shirt, in the middle of his shoulderblades. “But it’s not. And you’re okay. And so am I.” Katniss felt him shudder again, before his free hand let go of the chair and covered her hand resting on his stomach. It clenched hers tightly, but not in a way that threatened her. No, it was acknowledgement, it was his way of saying thank you. “Are you feeling alright now?” He nodded slowly, his way of reply. “Do you want to go and get washed up?”

“Yeah,” he croaked out. “Yeah I do.”

“I’ll get you a fresh towel and the first aid kit; I’ll meet you up there.”

They were silent as they went through the same motions as they had every other time Peeta had an episode, as he stood under the steaming water while she sat on the closed lid of the toilet. He caught her eye occasionally, acknowledging she was there, while he scrubbed away the memories and thoughts that had briefly overwhelmed him.

When he was finished, she sat him down on the lip of the tub, tended to the cuts and lacerations on his feet, covering them with gauze. They were shallow enough that there would be no scars, and for that, she was grateful.

Neither of them needed any more scars than they already had.

They moved back downstairs into the living room, and while she could tell he’d calmed, she knew he was still slightly on edge. With his hair still damp and curling slightly behind his ears, Katniss settled him on the sofa, dragged the throw rug from its back to drop over his lap. Even though it wasn’t warranted, especially not in the middle of summer, she knew it would give him the extra level of comfort he’d crave right now.

This part of their routine - the post-episode come down - had begun almost by accident. She’d remembered as a child her father reading to her, as a way to calm her fears and assuage the frantic beating of her heart after she’d had a nightmare. And while the episodes Peeta experienced weren’t the nightmares of her childhood -  _no, they were far, far worse_  - she’d hesitantly begun to read to him one day as he’d curled on the sofa, hoping that somehow it might help.

It had. And it hadn’t just helped Peeta - it had helped both of them.

She squeezed his hand before crossing to the other side of the room, and the large bookshelf that filled an entire wall. They’d never had a hand in selecting the original books that had lined the shelves when they’d first moved into their houses in Victor’s Village - standard Victor issue books on the history of Panem, the history of the Games, autobiographies of Snow. Since then, Katniss had demanded that they be taken away, and replaced with new ones. And so the shelves were full of a variety of every genre they could possibly imagine; they’d already read through the majority of them, and were waiting on the next shipment that Effie was sending from the Capitol.

Her eyes scanned the titles, looking for ones that they hadn’t yet read, and that she thought would be lighthearted, nothing too serious. Her fingers danced along the spines before she pulled a few out at random, carrying them back across the room and lowering herself beside him. He lifted the edge of the blanket, allowing her to slide in underneath with him, dropping it back over her lap and allowing his head to rest on her shoulder.

It took her a moment, the simple gesture of love and trust almost causing her throat to clench. They’d come so far, and even though some days were bad, some days he was completely overtaken by those shiny memories that Snow had implanted in him, he always came back to her.

“So,” she started, clearing her throat. “I’ve got a few. I thought I’d let you pick.”

“Okay.” He closed his eyes, and she could see the built up tension slowly beginning to leave his face. “Tell me what they are.”

Katniss spread them across her lap, face down, so she could read the blurbs on the back of each one. “The first one is about dragons, and people fighting to be ruler of seven kingdoms. The second is about a guy who travels through time, and the adventures he goes on with his companion. And the third is about a frog and a pig in love - wait,  _what_?” She picked the book up, flipped the cover over, then turned it back again, her brows pinched together in confusion. “Okay, I didn’t gauge that from the title when I picked it. Sorry, I’ll-”

His head shifted on her shoulder, and she looked down at his to see his blue eyes glancing up at her, a light in them that she hadn’t seen since she’d gotten home. “What’s wrong with reading about a pig and a frog in love?”

“It’s clearly a kids book, Peeta,” she said firmly, and he straightened, shaking his head.

“You don’t know that for sure - and we won’t know until we read it.”

“You want me to read this one.” She said it flatly, almost disbelievingly.

“I want you to read this one.” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “We need something a little lighthearted right now, Katniss. And anyway…it’s almost like us.”

She lifted an eyebrow wryly, happy that her accidental choice in book had caused him to smile, even if it was small. “You’re calling me a pig now?”

“Never,” he said softly. “But no one ever really expected us to fall in love, did they? Just like no one would ever expect that of a frog and a pig.”

Katniss sighed, dropping the two unwanted books to the floor and snuggling in closer to him. “Okay, I’ll read this one. But-”

“But?”

She turned her head, pressed her lips gently to his cheek and watched a flush of colour return to it. “Just because no one expected it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t have happened anyway,” she murmured, and he this time, he smiled properly.

“You’re right,” Peeta replied, then flipped the book open.

 


End file.
